The Price of Freedom
by Normione
Summary: When a firey 21st century woman suddenly finds herself in the world of the Patriot, the true price of freedom will be paid. With interest. The 18th century won't know what hit them. Chapter 51 is up!
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**Hello to everyone! Although this is not my first fanfiction, this is my first Patriot fanfiction, so I hope ya'll enjoy it. I'm wanting to try to have a chepter up each week, but that schedule may vary, seeing as I'm a Senior in High School and have a bunch of college and school stuff to fit in as well. I really hope you like my story!**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own anyone in the Patriot or the main plot of the movie. Merely myself and the subplot I created for mine and your enjoyment. So please, no lawyers.

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**Prologue:**

I suppose every person dreams, at one time in their life, to go on journey away from their home seeking adventure, love, or wealth. To place their mark on the world and have their name written in the stars. I know I had wished, dreamed, hoped for something to take me away from this dull existence I called my life. I wanted to be free, to have fun, to go on some sort of an adventure. I had read stories of heroes and heroines who fought for a cause they believed in, who struck out and defeated a great evil, who found a love so strong and pure that nothing could harm it. That's what I wanted, that's what I dreamed of, that's what I wished for. And that's what I got.

High School Graduation. The time where one finally leaves the torture of required education and moves onto either voluntary education or the work force. For me it was see ya Connecticut, hello world! I was ecstatic to finally be rid of all the people I hated and had to deal with in high school. The big day came and went; I had to speak at the ceremony since I was second in the class. The people may have hated me, but the teachers loved me. After that I was home free. The next day found me packing my car, preparing for an end of the year road trip to Washington D.C to visit one of my brothers, Tommy. Once everything was packed and goodbyes were said, I hit the road. Looking back at the end of the driveway, I waved goodbye, one last gesture of farewell to my family, then set out the open road. That was the last time I ever saw them.

I counted myself very lucky to have lived on the East Coast for practically all my life and had never been in a car accident. I know shocker. What with all the speeding Mercedes, the erratic SUV drivers who are in such a hurry that they cannot wait the possible 5 seconds for someone to register that the streetlight had changed from red to green or the soccer moms with their minivans full of little heathens that would just love to make obscene gestures at you from the back seat. This was the world I grew up in. A world of speed, of crowds, and of assholes.

I am not a native East Coaster. I was born in a small town on the plains of Colorado at the end of the 1980s. It was a town where everyone knew everyone else and treated everyone with a kind of mutual respect. A town where the only entertainment was cow tipping and crop stealing. (Really funny but sucked when you were caught.) Unfortunately during the mid '90s, my family wasn't doing to sparkly on the money side of things so we packed up and moved the six of us, my parents, three brothers and me, to the fun and happy state of Connecticut. (That was sarcasm, in cased you missed it.) Why there? Well, Dad got a good job from a friend making almost twice as much as he was as a car salesman in Colorado. Needless to say, moving became mandatory.

It was alright for the first couple months but as I began to be a bit more outgoing with those in my second grade class, the teasing started. First I was the "new girl." Then I became the outsider with the really weird accent. I didn't hear it, but apparently they did. Finally I became the girl who would fight with anyone who looked at her wrong. Fights became a regular thing for me, much to my parent's disappointment. I was by no means a violent person; I was just emotionally unstable and got pissed really easily. My brothers, when we were young, would play games to see who could get me mad first. Gotta love family.

Well, life went on through the years. My brothers graduated from high school then college then went to live their own lives with their wives and children moving further and further away. Bryan went to live in Seattle, James to Omaha, and Tommy to Washington D.C, leaving me alone with our slightly aged parents. OK, they weren't that old, barley 50.

Anyway, I grew up in a place that I hated. I had only a few friends in the Drama club at my high school and even fewer friends at my dance studio. I was considered by the fun little stereotype as a "loner" and was shunned by the "popular" crowd. Meh didn't bother me. I preferred my own company, less to deal with. Life went on.

Now I bring you, dear readers, to the beginning of my story. Where the cliché saying "Be careful what you wish for" comes into play.

I was making good time on the trip, despite a traffic jam going through Bridgeport. I swear they had been working on that section of the road since I moved to Connecticut ten years ago. _That's US workmanship for you,_ I thought shaking my head. Once past that I began working my way through southern Connecticut with no more problems. Traffic was moving, I'll admit a bit heavily, and I was having a grand old time bobbing my head and singing away to _The Getaway_ by Hilary Duff.

_Put the pedal down  
Heading out of town  
Gotta make a getaway  
The traffic in my brain's  
Driving me insane  
This is more than I can take  
You tell me that you love me first,  
Then throw your heart into reverse  
I gotta getaway... _

To a place where I  
Can be redefined,  
Where you're out of sight  
And you're out of mind  
But the truth is,  
I can't even say good-bye.

Just as the song reached it peak, a tractor trailer in the lane next to me swerved to miss something in the road. Unfortunately, I was in the path of the swerve. With a deafening crunch, my four door Toyota Camry became a two door Cooper Mini and everything went black. My last conscious thought was _God, please get me outta here!_

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**Thanks for reading and please, if you would be so kind, leave a review. I want feedback and hopefully if you have ideas I loved to here them Constructive critisim is appreciative, but no flames. **


	2. Chapter 2: It's 1776?

I want to thank everyone who has reviewed so far. I hope that this next chapter doesn't let ya'll down.

_Disclaimer: Nope, stil don't own the Patriot._

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**Chapter 1: It's 1776?**

I woke up sometime later. How much later I'm not to sure, even to this day. My head felt as if little men with sledge hammers were taking turns hitting my brain as hard as they possibly could. My left side felt as if it were on fire and the rest of my body had a horrible ach to it, almost as if I had been beaten with many blunt objects.

I rolled onto my back, since I had been lying on my stomach, and cautiously opened my eyes. Sunlight burned into them and I groaned as a new wave of pain and nausea overcame me. I threw my arms over my head to block the light, but that only caused my body to hurt even more. _What the effing shit!_ I thought. The rhythm of _thump, thump, thump_, continued in my head until I realized I was hearing another set of beats outside my body. I tried to sit up to figure out what I was hearing, but a hand placed itself on my shoulder, holding me down.

"I wouldn't do that, miss," a strong male voice said. "You may injure yourself more."

"Wha . . .?" OK, I graduated high school with a 4.0 and I was going to the University of Colorado on a full boat scholarship and the only thing I think to say is "_wha . . ."_

"What should we do, Gabriel?" Another, younger voice asked.

"Go get Father; he'll know what to do."

Feet scuttled away leaving me with a pounding headache and in the care of some stranger. Slowly I opened my eyes and was met with something I did not expect. _Huh? What? Is that . . . no, it's not him._ My heart stopped for a fraction of a second, but it was not who I thought it was. _No, it would never be him, _I thought bitterly. I tried to sit up again, but the hand on my shoulder held me down.

"No really. You should just lay still. That gash on your side will just open again." The man said.

"No," Why does my voice sound so hoarse? "No," I tried again a little stronger. "Please, I need to get up." I muttered as I struggled to sit up. The man must have figured I wasn't going to back down so, sighing grudgingly, helped me into a sitting position. The blood leaving my head made me become very dizzy causing the man to wrap his arm around my shoulders to hold me up.

"I told you, you shouldn't be doing that," He admonished. I just glared at him and let my body get its bearings. I was in a wood somewhere. Sunlight was pouring through the green leaves and I could hear the sound of a stream near by. _How the hell did I end up here? Where IS here?_

"Where am I?" I voiced aloud.

"We're a few miles east of the Santee." He answered.

I spun my head around, which hurt a lot mind you, and stared into his warm brown eyes. "Where?"

"East of the Santee River in South Carolina." He looked at me oddly. I turned away from his gaze, looking around me, disbelief probably written on my face. _South Carolina? How the hell did I manage to get to South Carolina? Wasn't I supposed to be in D.C.? _

Suddenly the sound of horses was heard coming through the woods. A man on a black stallion burst into the clearing we were in, followed by another horse and carriage driven by a young boy. The man reined the horse to a stop then jumped down and hurried over to us.

"What happened?" He barked at the man who was still holding me up.

"I don't know," The younger man answered. "Thomas and I were just walking back from hunting and found her laying here bleeding."

"Who are you people?" I asked, panic evident in my voice as I looked around at them. I have this thing about men. I don't quite know why, but men, especially ones I do not know, tend to scare me. I think it's that whole idea of being rapped and killed by strangers.

"It's alright, we're not going to hurt you," the oldest man assured. "My name is Benjamin Martin and these are my sons, Gabriel," he gestured to the one holding me up, "and Thomas," to the boy in the cart.

I looked at them, still scared kind of shitless, but nodded my head. That movement caused another wave of dizziness to sweep through me. I groaned and moved a hand to my aching skull, trying in vain to stop the spinning.

"Quickly, let us get her to the house. We'll finish introductions later," Benjamin announced at he picked me up bridal style and set me on the horse then vaulted up behind me. "Get her things into the cart, then meet me back home," he ordered his sons. With a loud "Ya!" he sent the horse galloping out of the woods toward a very large colonial style house. When we made it to the front, Benjamin helped me down, then carried me inside since I could not even hold myself up, let alone walk. He screamed for someone named Abigale, and then took me into a parlor looking room, laying me on the couch. A dark skinned woman came in, took one look at me, and hurried back out. Minutes later she was back with a large bowl of hot water and some strips of cloth.

"Here you go Mr. Martin," She said as she handed the items to him.

"Thank you, Abigale," He stopped and noticed something. "The children, if you please." I hadn't even noticed the herd of kids that had followed us into the room. Nodding her head she shooed them back out of the room.

"Oww my head," I moaned.

"Don't worry, I'll help you," Benjamin said. He took one of the cloths, wringing any excess water from it, then started to clean the dried blood from my face. "You have a nice gash on your forehead. How did you get it?" He asked.

"I. . .I don't really remember," I murmured. "I was in an accident, I think." A thought struck me. "Wait, where's my car? I was in my car when the accident happened." Bits and pieces were flying in my head. "It was a truck. It swerved and hit me!" I exclaimed.

"Whoa, whoa, slow down." Benjamin urged, pushing me back down as I tried to get up. "You are in no condition to be running around. Now what is this 'car' you're talking about?"

I stared at him as if he had two heads. "What? You know, a car. The big hunk of metal that goes like 80 miles an hour. The main mode of transportation for practically the whole world!" Now HE looked at me like I was nuts. "You. . . You don't know what a car is, do you?"

"I have never heard of it in my life," he admitted. "Now, could you lift your shirt please?" I sent him a panicked look. "I only want to look at the gash on your side."

I looked down and saw the side of my ripped T-shirt was stained red. Hesitantly I lifted my shirt up, making sure to keep as much of myself hidden as possible. His eyes grew wide for a second, from the magnitude of my injury, and then began to clean the blood, dried and new, from it.

"How did this happen?" He muttered.

"I told you, it was an accident."

His blue gazed jumped to my face, then back down to the gash that he was wrapping. "I understand that, but I've never seen anything like it."

"Oww!" I yelled as the bandage rubbed the cut wrong.

"Sorry," Benjamin apologized.

"It's alright; I've had worse pain than this."

He smiled. "Please forgive me, but I'm afraid that I still don't know your name."

I hesitated. "I'm . . . Stephanie. Stephanie Hawkins."

He smiled. "That is a beautiful name Miss Hawkins."

My only response was another hiss of pain.

Swiftly, Gabriel and Thomas rode up in the wagon. Thomas presently jumped down and ran into the house as Gabriel tied the horses up, then he entered the house as well.

"Is she alright, Father?" Thomas called as he slid, not to gracefully, into the house.

I cringed as the loud sound reverberated in my head. "I'm quite fine. Thanks for asking."

He blushed. "Oh, well, I'm, ah, I'm glad to hear it." He inclined his head to me then all but ran out of the room. I looked curiously to Benjamin, who merely shrugged. Gabriel looked back after his brother as he walked in, and then shook his head. When he caught sight of me, smiled.

"Are you feeling better, Miss?" He asked kindly. Benjamin finished up tying the bandage, and I pulled my shirt back down.

"Yes, I think I'll be alright. Thank you, for ah, for saving me." I mumbled, turning my eyes away. He looked far too much like _Him_.

I could not see his face, but I could hear in his voice that his smile faded. "You're welcome. Please excuse me." He turned and walked back out of the room.

Benjamin stared after his son and turned back to me. "Do you have any family in the area?" He asked.

"Um . . . no, I don't think so. Could I ask you a question?"

"Of course," He answered, sitting down on the couch next to me. I pulled myself into a sitting position

"I know this may sound weird, but, um, what year is it?"

He looked at me curiously. "It's 1776. Why do you ask?"

"You're kidding right? I mean, you cannot be serious."

Benjamin looked at me as if I lost my mind and who knows, maybe I did. "I'm quite sure. It's August 4, 1776."

_Oh great, here comes the dizziness,_ I thought as the world began to spin again. "This cannot be happening." I muttered pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes.

"Why?" Benjamin asked.

"Because . . . it just can't. Look, you probably wouldn't even believe me if I told you. Maybe I should just go." I started to rise but he stopped me firmly.

"No, you will stay here, at least until you're healed. You said you don't have family in the area, is that correct?"

"More than you know," I said.

"Than you will stay with us, with my family. Please?"

I looked up into his soft blue eyes. This man wouldn't hurt me, I was sure of it. He even looked familiar, I just couldn't place where. I took a deep breath then let it out slowly and nodded my head in acceptance. "Alright. Truth be told, I don't have anywhere to go."

"Then you shall stay, for as long as you want."

I nodded, "Thank you."

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**I bet ya'll were thinking that she was going to end up in Tavington's grasp, huh? Hehe, sorry to disappoint you, but he shows up, just not for a while. Have I got ideas for ol' Tavvy. 0:-). As always, reviews are appreciated.**


	3. Chapter 3: Friends?

**Yay, new chapter time. Hope ya'll enjoy and thank you to the new reviews I received!**

**_Disclaimer: Um. . .see first chapters._

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**Chapter 2: Friends?**

The next week found me laid out like some couch potato in the Martin's home. They were kind to me though and helped me when I needed it, but it was awkward at first; I barely knew them and they barely knew me.

The children were very kind to me, however, especially Margret and Susan. I think they enjoyed having another girl in the house. Susan never said anything, but Margret wouldn't be quiet. She talks more that I do and that's saying something. The younger boys were pretty much indifferent to me. I think they were in the whole "girls have coodies" stage. Thomas made me laugh though. He would spend any available time talking to me, but the minute he thought he said or did something stupid he's turn bright red and make some sort of stuttering excuse to leave. When I asked Mr. Martin (It was too weird calling him Benjamin) about it, he just chuckled and shrugged. Mr. Martin became a kind of father to me, taking care of me as if I was one of his own. Gabriel was the only one I seemed to have a hard time talking to. He and I were always awkward around each other, stuttering or saying something stupid. I tried to shrug it off but it really bothered me.

The first week of my stay was also a bit bothersome. I recognized that I knew this family somehow, I just couldn't for the life of me figure out where. I would get a flash of something when they said or did something, but then it would leave just as fast. It was so frustrating until a postal horseman came about two weeks after my arrival. Then the idea finally struck me. I was in the freakin' movie _the Patriot._ How? I had not clue but it was a really shocker when I figured it out.

I was outside, sitting with Margret on the porch as she was teaching letters to her younger brother William, when the sounds of laughter and hoof beats were heard coming up the drive. As I looked up my heart stopped. The scene was so familiar, then, BAM, it hit me. After I realized where the hell I was I had to kick myself for not figuring it out sooner. One would think that they would recognize the characters from their favorite movie but I guess I'm the exception.

Margret and William rushed over to the porch steps as Abigale came out and took the letters from the really hott postal dude. I remained behind on the rocker because A.) Everyone would come rushing up anyway and B.) I couldn't get up without the assistance of someone. The gash on my side was a lot larger than I had thought. It stretched from the top of my belly button all the way back across my waist and hip. It was a bugger of an injury and hurt like the dickens too.

I found it quite entertaining that the whole family got so excited over the mail showing up. I know that mail was exceptionally slow during the Colonial period, but having grown up in a society where mail was an everyday thing, I didn't fully understand the magnitude of the mail arriving until that day.

I looked out and saw Thomas come tearing across the field, losing his hat along the way, with Gabriel slowly trailing behind him. Nathan and Samuel continued to chase after the rider and then detoured off to go get Mr. Martin. Thomas, when he reached the stairs, bolted up them and slid into the kitchen. Gabriel dropped the guns and kills that he and Thomas made that day and walked over to me, who was now all alone on the very large wrap-around porch.

"Would you like help inside, Miss Hawkins?" He asked politely.

"No thank you. I think I wouldn't mind just sitting here, enjoying the view."

"As you wish," he bowed his head to me. I heard him enter the way Thomas had, commanding Thomas to wait for Mr. Martin. I smiled to myself. Gabriel was always the top boss. Taking a deep breath, which caused me to wince from the quick shot of pain, I reached down and grabbed my sketchbook and pencils, hoping to capture the look of the evening sun through the trees. South Carolina was really quite pretty.

As I quickly sketched and shaded, I noticed Mr. Martin come out of the barn, and walk over to a large tree surround by a white picket fence. This was where Elizabeth was buried. Although I hadn't seen the movie in quite a while, I still remembered some of the scenes, this being one of them. I frowned slightly as I watched him. I felt a deep sympathy for the man who had taken me, a complete and total stranger, into his home without a thought. His kindness touched my heart. I don't know of many people back in the twenty-first century that would do something like that.

Brooding, I hadn't heard anyone approach until Gabriel said, "That is a very beautiful drawing." I jumped in surprise and closed my sketch book quickly, even though the image was only half done.

"Th-thank you," I tried to smile.

His smile faded slightly. "May I sit with you?" He asked.

"It's a free country." Well maybe not yet. He gave a small chuckle and sat on the bench opposite me.

"Why don't you let anyone see your sketches? I've seen you buried in those drawings hours at a time."

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I just don't like having my images judged. They're for me to remember certain things, certain times in my past. They're not for anyone else."

"Well you have talent; I can see that already from that half finished drawing."

I blushed at the complement and stumbled out a half-hearted thank you. He seemed to sigh in defeat. "Why are you always so reserved around me? I've seen you with my siblings and you seem so laid-back and natural, yet when I enter you tense up. Why? Have I offended you?"

I looked up to his pleading brown eyes. "It's nothing like that," I began, looking away. "I'm sorry. I'm usually more outgoing with everyone. It's just that . . . well . . . you look an awful lot like someone I used to know; someone who I counted as a friend." I turned my amber colored eyes to meet his. "I don't really like to talk about it. It was kind of a, ah, a hard time in my life when I knew him. I'm really sorry about treating you different. I never meant anything by it. You're not him; it's just the likeness that kind of throws me off."

He smiled reassuringly and took my hand in his. "It's alright. I was just curious and I want us to be friends."

"I'd like that." I smiled fully. Just then Mr. Martin came up the stairs. Gabriel jumped back like he had been burned and I had to stifle a laugh from the amusement that was shinning from Mr. Martin's eyes.

"Ah, mail came, Father," Gabriel mumbled.

He nodded his head. "We'll open it after dinner. Are you two coming in?"

"In a just a minute," I answered.

As Mr. Martin proceeded into the house, I looked back at Gabriel.

"Friends?" I asked as I held my hand out.

He looked at my outstretched hand for a second then grasped it. "Friends," he replied with a smile. "C'mon. Let's go eat."

He helped me up out of the chair and the two of us shuffled into the house as the last rays of light disappeared below the horizon.


	4. Chapter 4: To Tell or Not to Tell

**Chapter 3: To Tell or Not To Tell?**

Dinner was a pretty boring affair. Following it, Mr. Martin took the younger children to bed while Gabriel, Thomas, and I retired into the parlor. Thomas was laying out on the floor in front of the fire with his metal soldiers while Gabriel took to a chair with a book. I had my sketch book retrieved from outside, along with my pencils, and drew the image of Thomas and Gabriel. I will never forget that feeling of contentment that was evident that night.

Twenty minutes later Mr. Martin came downstairs and, after taking a quick look at us, turned and walked toward a small table which held the mail from earlier that day. Thomas and Gabriel had looked up as he came down, waiting with such anticipation to see what he'd do. I, too, was a little anxious as to what was in the mail. Mr. Martin strolled over to the table and reached down, as if to pick the papers up, but seemed to think better of it. Poor Thomas and Gabriel, they almost seemed to deflate with disappointment. However, when Mr. Martin poured himself a brandy and went to look out the window he commented, "So what was in the mail?"

Apparently that phrase was an innuendo for 'go' because both Thomas and Gabriel sprung up like they were on fire and raced across the room. I arose, very slowly, and shuffled my way over so that I may also get a look.

Quickly Gabriel had snatched what looked like the newspaper from the little bundle and Thomas had a few letters. Gabriel took a seat as he read, with me reading over his shoulder even as Thomas took a seat on the floor. Mr. Martin had sat down opposite us and was sorting through the things addressed to him.

Gabriel came across a list of names as he scanned the front page. Taking his fingers, he trailed them down until they came to rest on one name.

"Peter Cuppin joined the Continentals," Gabriel announced with some trepidation. Mr. Martin looked up, but he seemed to be concentrating on something outside of what he was seeing. "He's seventeen, a year younger than I."

"You're eighteen?" I asked astonished. For some reason I thought he was older than that. _Oh yea, that's right. He was 22 for practically the whole the movie_.

"Yes," Gabriel replied impatiently. He was no doubt waiting for an answer from his father to an unasked question. I glanced up to Mr. Martin for his reaction. He merely resided to reading the invitation in his hand. When no answer was forth coming, Gabriel let out a disheartened sigh. I felt a bit of sympathy for him. He badly wanted to fight, I could see it in his eyes, but he would not go without his father's permission. I gently patted my hand on his shoulder, for reassurance. He didn't know that he would be fighting sooner than he thought. Gabriel continued to read the paper, but reached back and gripped my hand in return.

"Well, the assembly's been convened, so I've been called to Charles Town," Mr. Martin remarked after a few seconds.

"Charles Town? We're going to Charles Town?" Thomas practically screamed out.

"We are," Benjamin answered. Both Thomas and Gabriel spirits seemed to have been lifted for both were grinning broadly. "We leave in the mourning."

"Excuse me, Charles Town?" I looked at them puzzled.

"It's a large city on the Coast. Our Aunt Charlotte lives there. We don't get to see her much and it's exciting to go to the city," Gabriel turned to look back at me.

"Oh, I get it." Charles Town was Charleston from 2006. "I'll go up and pack. How long will we be staying?"

"About a week, maybe two," Mr. Martin looked up. "And I know that you like to wear those strange pants and shirts you have around the farm, but in Charles Town I need you to wear appropriate clothing."

Thomas and Gabriel looked at each other. They knew my distaste for "appropriate clothing" and left quickly before my argument could commence with Mr. Martin.

I raised an eyebrow at their hasty departure then turned and looked at Mr. Martin, crossing my arms. "One problem, I don't have anything considered "appropriate" by society, which I know is why your asking for me to wear the horrible torture devices called dresses."

"Then I will need to ask Charlotte if she has anything that will fit you. I'm sorry, I know your distaste for them, but if you are to go on this trip, you must wear them. And no, I will not leave you behind." Damn, this guy's good.

I swallowed up my temper, not an easy thing, and nodded. "Fine, but nothing frilly or lacey."

He nodded in acceptance. "Fine. Do you need help packing? You're not quite fully healed." His eyes filled for concern for me caused my temper to evaporate. _He IS only looking out for me,_ I thought.

"No thank you. I'm healed enough, I can manage," I turned on my heel and walked to the staircase. Just as I reached the first step I turned around to look back in the room. He had gone back to reading his letters. "Thanks anyway." He looked up and gave me a quick smile then went back to reading. Slowly and steadily I climb the stairs to my room.

The next morning was a flurry of activity as everyone prepared to leave. I was filled with nervous anticipation. What was an 18th century city going to look like? Would there be huge merchant ships like I've seen on field trips? Masses of people like New York or Boston? I had no clue and I was excited to see all that I could. I am a history buff and I have been since I was a child. I was going to go to college for archaeology, but well, I guess I'm kinda living the history I planned to study. Talk about ironic.

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Soon we were on our way down the narrow dirt road toward Charleston. I had asked Mr. Martin before we left how long the ride was going to take. He said about eight hours. EIGHT HOURS in what would have probably been around two maybe three by car. There were still a few things I had yet to adapt to. 

About two hours into the ride my patients was already gone. My side ached, I was tired from having been woken up before dawn, and I swear I could walk faster than speed the horses were moving. I would never willing snap at the children, they became something like siblings to me, but their constant bickering was getting old _really_ fast. I was very tempted to get my ipod out of my bag, which would cause them to ask all sorts of questions like they did when they found my cell phone (that was fun to try to explain) when Gabriel rode up on his horse.

"How are you doing?" He asked. I merely glared at him, displaying my boredom and frustration of being cooped up in a dress that was worn by Mr. Martin's wife. Damn, she was small, I barley fit in the dress. Hopefully Charlotte's fit better. Gabriel tried to not let out his amusement, but I could see it in his eyes. "Sorry I asked."

I was very tempted to say, 'Bite me' but I held my tongue and sent another glare. He couldn't help but chuckle. _Damn him,_ I thought as I smiled. He stopped and looked at me in a way that made my heart jump. Stupid crushes.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing, it's just, you rarely smile and you look really, ah, beautiful. You should smile more often." He blushed slightly and turned away.

"Oh," I could feel the heat in my cheeks. Stupid hormones. "Thanks. I'll try to do that, but with you around, it might be hard." He spun his head around and saw the smile on my face. I think he knew I was teasing and broke into one of those oh-so-yummy grins. We talked for few more hours then lapsed into comfortable silence.

Soon, the rocking of the cart started to really hurt me. I may be mostly healed, but the taxing affect of ridding was not helping the healing process. I tried not to make any noise but a groan escaped my lips as we went over a particularly large bump. Gabriel looked at me sympathetically and rode up to where his father was driving his own cart. Gabriel said something and Mr. Martin pulled the little caravan to a stop.

"Let's rest for a while," was all he said. I knew they were stopping for me, but I was thankful he didn't say anything. The children jumped down and ran through the meadow we stopped by, with Abigale trailing behind them at a lazy pace. Gabriel helped me down from the cart then him and Mr. Martin pulled the carts off the road. I sent Gabriel a silent 'thank you' and walked through the meadow.

The flowers were beginning to wilt as the first trace of fall came blowing in but the air was still warm and the day long. We rested for about 20 minutes then set out again, this time Mr. Martin had me sitting next to him.

"Are you feeling better?" He asked. I tried very hard not to roll my eyes. They were always asking me that.

"Yes, I'm fine. Really. I only really ache."

He nodded. "I'm concerned, that's all. I apologize if it's a bit annoying. I've come to see you as a daughter to me and I want to make sure you fully recover."

I looked at him startled. It was true that I saw him as something similar to a father, but I didn't think his concern was more that helping a young, orphaned girl.

"Really?" He looked down into my amber eyes.

"Yes. You have a fire in you that all my children seem to have. They get that their mother." He explained wistfully. I looked down at the mention of his wife. I know the pain of losing the ones we love.

"Where is your family? You've never actually explained anything about them."

I looked up to see him watching me with slight curiosity. _How am I gonna explain this?_ I thought. "Well, um, they're, ah, they're dead, I guess you could say. I don't know, it's a really long story and I don't think you would understand or believe half of it."

"It is still a long road ahead."

_Should I tell him? Would he even believe me or would he think I'm crazy? He saved my life, the least I could do is give him the truth_. I didn't know what to do. The whole 'to be or not to be' was resounding through my head. I deep sigh echoed in my body as I made my decision.

"Well, there were four of us and my parents. I was the youngest of three brothers . . ." I spoke of my family, my lack of friends and the feeling of isolation; I even spoke of my anger toward my parents for moving away from home. Practically everything I had bottled up I let out to someone who barely knew me. Maybe that was what I needed. Someone who didn't already have a predetermined judgment about me. "So anyway, I was going to visit Tommy down in D. C. - I mean Virginia and somehow ended up in your backyard."

"I must say, you are a very exceptional girl that I have ever come across, but what did you mean about me not believing your story?"

Ok, he caught me. "Well, I sort of left the time frame out of my story. I guess, well, um, you see. . ." _Damn it just say it!_ "ThelasttimeIsawmyparentitwas2006." I said hurriedly.

"Pardon, could you repeat that? I didn't quite catch the last part."

I sighed taking interest in the pattern of my skirt. "The last time I saw my parents, it was 2006. More precisely June 24, 2006." I looked to his face when no reaction was given. He stared pointedly ahead, his gaze almost cold. I felt my heart clench painfully as I tried to stop the burning behind my eyes. "I knew you wouldn't believe me, I'm sorry, I shouldn't . . . I mean I felt so guilty and," my breath hitched in my chest.

He spun his head to me, his gaze, not full of contempt or disbelief, but understanding. "I believe you. Somehow, I do. You don't seem to be from here, this century I mean. Your mannerism, your personality, your clothes, all spoke of something different. I thought it was because you were from up North. Now it all makes perfect sense." He turned to me. "I'm just having trouble understanding all of it."

Relief washed over me. "You and me both." As we crested a hill, the city of Charles Town came into view and I know I have not held such a beautiful sight.

* * *

**Review as always!**


	5. Chapter 5: Aunt Charlotte

**Hi everyone! 'Tis time for the weekly update and since it's almost Christmas, and it's been Hanukkah for a while, my gift to you all is two chapters! I got alot of writing done this week and instead of just posting one, I'm in the giving spirit. I hope you enjoy both!**

**_Disclaimer: I think we've covered that I don't own the Patriot. Asked Santa for it, but he just laughed._**

**

* * *

****Chapter 4: Aunt Charlotte and the Assembly**

We soon entered the city of Charleston. It was both exactly as I pictured it and yet completely different. Charleston also held the principles of any city, past and future, then at the same time it was uniquely its own. We passed buildings barely three stories high, and I could hear the children 'oooing' and 'awwing' behind us. I couldn't help but smile. If only they could see the cities that I know and the buildings I've seen.

The amount of people was also surprising. There were a lot; a lot more people here than I thought. Ladies were walking around the various shops. Men were walking about conversing while slaves were running errands and unloading carts. A beehive is the best way to describe what I saw.

Then we entered the docks. I think I forgot to breath, the view was the most amazing thing I've ever seen. Ships, dozens of ships were anchored; their masts reaching high into the sky while yards of robe connected their sails. Men and slaves were running all over these beautiful masterpieces like ants over a hill. Some ships were being loaded and preparing to set out while others were in the unloading phase.

Shortly we were at Aunt Charlotte's. We left the carts with a few of Aunt Charlotte's grooms and proceeded up the stairs to the main entrance of her house. The children all took off, running and laughing in their best dressed. Gabriel had offered me his arm at the bottom of the stairs and was helping me to climb them like the gentleman he was. As we neared the top the children started shouting "Aunt Charlotte! Aunt Charlotte!" and crowded around a very beautiful blond woman who had emerged from the house.

She laughed as they crowded around, "Margaret, William, look at you." Mr. Martin had taken off his hat as he approached and was generally pleased to see his sister-in-law. Gabriel, Thomas, and I came up the rear. I could feel the happiness radiating from both of them when they caught sight of their Aunt.

"They're huge. What have you been feeding them?" Charlotte asked Mr. Martin, completely starry eyed from where I was standing.

"Well, they're from good stock. On their mother's side, of course." Sauvé, comparing your children to horse breeding. Charlotte blushed and looked up past Mr. Martin to Gabriel, Thomas and me. She seemed confused by my presence.

"Who's this?" She gestured to me. Mr. Martin turned around and offered his arm to me which I accepted, stepping away from Gabriel.

"This is Miss Stephanie Hawkins. She is staying with us for the time being."

I smiled apprehensively at her and tried a, I will admit, very sucky curtsey. "Um, nice to me you, ma'am."

Her smile was warm and compassionate. "And I you. Come inside. Wait till you see what I have," her attention moved to the children.

"Present? Presents for us?!" It was like Christmas and the children all ran inside.

"Move slowly," Mr. Martin ordered. He turned to Gabriel and Thomas. "Keep an eye on these heathens, will you?" Of course, the hastiness in which they moved to obey him, forced Mr. Martin into Charlotte. Since I had not followed, I was in full view of the embarrassing exchange. Coughing to cover up my laugh I turned away and let them reposition themselves. I could hear a mumbled apology and really had to focus on not laughing.

Charlotte, after composing herself, walked over to Susan, who was held by Abigail, and gave her a beautiful doll that had belonged to Elizabeth, Susan's mother. I followed Abigail and Susan into the house to allow Mr. Martin and Charlotte time to talk.

* * *

That night, there was rioting, partying, whatever you wanna call it, in the streets below Charlotte's house. Gabriel and I had gone down to partake in the festivities. There were bonfires and men shooting off guns, which I found very hazardous. Too bad gun control hadn't been invented yet. We had been walking around talking to various people about the condition of the war and our views of a free nation. I only voiced my opinion when I was directly asked because well, kinda already know what's gonna happen. I didn't want to give too much away.

Soon we heard our names being shouted from above us. We looked up and waved to the family, just as a guy shot his gun right next to Gabriel. I jumped like 40 feet in the air, which of course had Gabriel in a laughing fit. I would have punched him had I not been wearing a corset and like fifty pounds of material in the form of a dress.

Mr. Martin had explained to Charlotte my 'situation', soon after we arrived. She readily gave up a couple _very_ fancy dresses, a few undergarments, and a corset. When I protested that it was all too much (I didn't want to be rude and blatantly refuse them) she merely told me that they were a little old and too small for her anyway. So I was stuck looking like a proper lady. In all honesty, I wouldn't have minded so much if I didn't have that damn corset!

Gabriel and I wandered off, toward the direction of the ships where it wasn't so loud. We came to the steps of city hall and heard a very portly man in a really bad wig making a speech from its steps. Many other men and woman were gathered around, agreeing and shouting with the things that he said. I left Gabriel, telling him that I would find him and walked closer to the speechmaker.

"My name is Peter Howard. I lost most of my hearing and my left leg fighting for the Crown ion the French and Indian War. And how did King George reward me? He cuts off my other leg with his taxes." This was met with boos and shouts directed at a sovereign 3000 miles away. Shaking my head and walking away, I saw Gabriel speaking with a very pretty brunette. Anne. I tried to stop it, but a pang of something, either jealousy or sadness, hit my heart. Anne dismissed herself from Gabriel as her father finished his speech just as I walked up.

"Friend of yours?" I smirked, my gaze following her. He turned his amber eyes to mine and smiled.

"I guess you could say that," He laughed uncertainly as he stared after her, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't think she was too happy to see me."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Because when I was younger, I, ah, put ink in her tea as a joke. She didn't take it very well."

As hard as I tried, I couldn't stop a laugh from escaping. "Gabriel Martin, what am I to do with you?"

He laughed and shrugged, then offered his arm as we waded our way back to Charlotte's.

"How do you think this will end?" Gabriel turned to me when we reached the deck of Charlotte's house. "What will become of us?"

"We'll win. Many will fight, many more will die, but we will walk out of this the victors." My voice shook with passion and pride as I looked among the populace.

"Why do you think that?"

"I don't think, I know." I curved myself around to face him, leaning my back against the rail. "Look at them. Their passions, their need for freedom, their will to survive are what will win this war. I'm sure of it."

He smiled and walked to the side of me, leaning on the rails with his hands. He too, looked out among the people. "You seem so sure, so full of conviction." He turned his eyes to me. "I want to fight, for my family and for my beliefs. I believe in a free nation, but my father cannot see it. If the levy to join the war is passed by the Assembly tomorrow, I will enlist. With or without my father's permission."

I stared hard into his face. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I don't know. Because you know I want to fight and I know you'll support me. And . . ." he tore his gaze from me and raked it over the crowd.

"And what?" I pushed. _What is he trying to say?_

"I know you have only stayed with us for a few weeks, but you have become a part of my family." His eyes were set with determination I have not seen before. "If I die in this war, please, protect them, especially little Susan and Margret."

"Gabriel, I-"

"Please!" He spun and gripped my arms in his strong hands. "Please, just say yes, that's all I want to hear."

"Yes, yes, alright," his grip relaxed. "I promise I will give my life to protect theirs. I swear it." It was almost as if a great weight was lifted off of him. He stood up, taller and straighter that I have ever seen him.

"Thank you," He bent down and kissed me lightly on the cheek then went inside. I stood there in a daze, my fingers reached up and lightly brushed where his lips had been. Gun fire and shouting were still going off all around me but I couldn't hear it, my heart was pounding so loud. _Oh boy, what have I gotten myself into?_

_

* * *

_

Shouting, shouting, banging, banging, shouting, banging. _Man you could make a tap routine outta this,_ I thought as Gabriel, Thomas, Charlotte and I were sitting during the very long, but not quite so boring, Assembly. Most of the men wanted to go to war, others just wanted peace, and still others wanted to remain under British rule. However, did they all have to shout to get their point across? It was bad enough that I couldn't breathe because of the damn corset I was wearing, but all the shouting that was commencing in the room was starting to give me a headache as well.

"Our first order of business," the man who I presumed was head of this organization banged with his hammer.

"And our last, if we vote a levy," Someone interrupted. This was met with cheers and jeers but the head of the Assembly called out order. He also reprimanded the man who had spoken out. _Oui ve, this is going to be a long procession._

The leader continued, "First, an address by Colonel Harry Burwell of the Continental Army. Colonel Burwell."

A man wearing the signature blue uniform of the time stood up and proceed to the floor. His dark hair was tied back and the air of command he held led me to respect him. "You all know why I'm here," He began. Gabriel sat up straighter, listening attentively. "I'm not an orator. And I would not try to convince you of the worthiness of our cause. I'm a soldier. And we are at war. From Philadelphia, we expect a declaration of Independence. 8 of the 13 colonies have levied money in support of a continental army. I ask that South Carolina be the ninth."

Again, the same who had spoken out before did so again. "Massachusetts and Virginia may be at war but South Carolina is not!" Again cheers, jeers, and the in-between.

"This is not a war for the independence of one or two colonies," Colonel Burwell looked to the Tory side and the Rebel side of the room. "But for the independence of one nation."

Another man stood up, "And what nation is that?"

"The United States of America you pompous git!" I whispered under my breath. Gabriel slide a glance at me but I ignored him. Mr. Howard had stood up and said something about 'An American Nation,' and now Wilkins, who would join up with the Dragoons added his two cents.

"There is no such nation and to speak of one is treason."

"We are citizens of an American nation," Mr. Howard continued. "And our rights are being threatened by a Tyrant 3000 miles away." I swear it was like watching a tennis match between the men in the room. However, as Mr. Howard ended his statement, Mr. Martin stood up with his opinion.

"Would you tell me, please, Mr. Howard why should I trade one tyrant 3000 miles away for 3000 tyrants one mile away?" Some men laugh and I had to admit, he did add an interesting idea. "An elected legislature can trample a man's rights as easily as a king can."

"Captain Martin," the colonel looked almost weary. "I understood you to be a patriot."

"If you mean by 'patriot,' am I angry about taxation with out representation? Well, yes, I am. Should the American colonies govern themselves independently? I believe they can. And they should. But if you're asking me am I willing to go to war with England, well then the answer is most definitely no."

Some men grumbled, some agreed, but one man stood up, "This from the same Captain Benjamin Martin whose fury was so famous at during the Wilderness campaign?"

"I was intemperate in my youth," Mr. Martin answered.

"Temperance can be a disguise for fear," the same man continued. _Oh no he did not! _I started to shake with rage at this insolent man's accusation. I was very close to standing up myself when Gabriel grabbed my clenched fist. I locked my gaze with him and saw the same anger behind his eyes, but we could say nothing. Luckily the Colonel stuck up for Mr. Martin.

"Mr. Middleton, I fought with Captain Martin under Washington in the French and Indian War. There's not a man in this room or anywhere for that matter, to whom I would more willingly trust my life."

"There are alternatives to war. We take our case before the king. We plead with him.

"Yes, we tried that," The colonel answered.

"Well, then, we try again and again if necessary to avoid a war." _Too late for that._

"Benjamin, I was at Bunker Hill . . . ("Totally was Breeds Hill") the British advanced three times. We killed over 700 at point-blank range and still they took the ground. That is the measure of their resolve. If your principles dictate independence the war is the only way. It is come to that." More shouting, more arguing.

"I have seven children. Eight, if you count the orphaned girl I took into my home. My wife is dead. Now, who's to care for them if I go to war?" I could feel Gabriel tense beside and offered my hand, just he offered his. He took it, with firmness.

"Wars are not fought by childless men."

"Granted. But mark my words. This war will be fought, not on the frontier or some distant battlefield but amongst us. Among our homes. Our children will learn of it with their own eyes. And the innocent will die with the rest of us." It was then that all emotion was expressed through his voice and his words. "I will not fight. And because I will not fight I will not cast a vote that will send others to fight in my stead."

"And your principles?" The colonel asked.

"I'm a parent. I haven't got the luxury if principles." And he sat. Gabriel was furious and stood up, leaving the room and the Assembly behind. I turned to Charlotte and she nodded to me, so I too, got up and followed Gabriel outside while she and Thomas stayed inside.

"Gabriel! Gabriel, wait!" I shouted after him as he descended the stairs from the courthouse. I had one hand holding my hat down and the other holding my skirts up as I tried to run after him. _Stupid corset_!_ Damn dress!_ At the bottom of the stairs he stopped, allowing me to catch up. I heaved in air as I reached him. "Gabriel. Wha-t was that- about?"

"He hides behind us like a shield, refusing to allow anything to happen!" He yelled gesturing towards the Courthouse where the meeting was.

"Did you ever think that maybe he's just trying to protect you guys?" I answer in a calm, rational tone.

"I don't need protecting!"

"Maybe you don't, but your brothers and sisters do!" I yelled back. There goes my 'calm, rational' tone. "You can't dictate what he should do because you want to fight! He has more responsibilities! He has duty to his family."

"And I don't?" His eyes bore angrily into mine.

I sighed, this was going no where. "You have a duty to your family as well; however his is a little bit more complex. Please Gabriel, try to understand where he is coming from. He loves you and would die for you, but he doesn't want to bring the pain and suffering of the war to his very backyard."

"There's no saying that it would."

"You know it would. Everything he said, everything he predicted, it will happen. Nothing you do or say can change that. Please, he's only trying to keep the peace for as long as possible."

"How do you know? The British could easily stay in the north and not bother with South Carolina. Believe me. I don't want any harm to come to any one in my family. Or to you." He took my hands and held them in his as his soft eyes stared into mine. My mouth went dry and my heart was pounding.

"I don't want anything to happen to you either. You're one of my best friends." I answered. _Wow, just yesterday we were barely friends_. "But the levy will pass and we will go to war. It will be only a matter of time before the British are here."

He sighed and was about to respond when the doors to the courthouse opened and everyone came pouring out. The meeting had been adjourned.


	6. Chapter 6: Something More

******Chapter 5: Something More**

A large crowd had gathered outside the courthouse as all waited for the votes to be tallied and the answer given. Gabriel was pacing back and forth near the Continental Army enlisting post, nervous as all hell. His anxiety was getting to me, but I knew that nothing I could say would make much of deference. Quickly, a young page ran out of the large blue doors and announced the results.

"28 to 12! The levy passed!" A great cheer arose from the announcement. Guns were shot, hats were thrown and many men quickly headed to enlist. Gabriel seemed extremely pleased and followed many of the men.

I looked up and saw Mr. Martin emerge from the courthouse, not looking at all happy with the dealings. As he walked down the stairs he caught sight of Gabriel and me and proceeded over.

"Gabriel, there's your father," I whispered into his ear. He turned his head slightly, but looked away quickly when he saw his father's glowering at him.

"You intend to enlist without my permission?" Mr. Martin's voice was very much controlled.

Gabriel spun around and in the same tone answered, "Yes, I do." The stared at each other and I looked quickly between them, hoping for some kind of break. Gabriel was the first to break eye contact. "Father, I thought you were a man of principle."

Mr. Martin appeared almost crushed by that statement and I was so ready to yell at Gabriel when Mr. Martin said, "When you have a family of your own, perhaps you'll understand."

"When I have a family of my own, I won't hide behind them."

"Gabriel!" I stared at him shocked. I thought I had gotten him away from that idea. Gabriel turned and walked away from both me and Mr. Martin. Mr. Martin stood there, reigning in his emotions.

"I'm so sorry. He should never have said that. I should go . . ."

"No," Mr. Martin grabbed my arm as I turned to follow Gabriel. "Give him space. He's as stubborn as I was. Nothing will change his mind."

"He still should never have said that," I continued.

"No your right, but I cannot control what he says or does."

"He's as imprudent as his father was at his age," the colonel explained as he stepped up next to Benjamin. I circled toward the colonel.

"Regrettably so," Mr. Martin answered.

"I'll see to it that he serves under me. Make him a clerk or a quartermaster, something of that sort." I had to stop myself from snorting. _Yea, ok. He'll love that._

"Good luck," Was the only response from Mr. Martin.

As Gabriel finished enlisting he turned to look back at us, but Mr. Martin walked away, with Charlotte and Thomas following behind. I looked between father and son, torn as to what to do.

"Don't worry, I'll see that no harm comes to him," the colonel addressed me. Gabriel nodded once at me then looked away and followed the other men to obtain their uniforms and weapons. I could feel the tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

"You had better," I spun around and headed after Mr. Martin.

* * *

The months pasted in a quick blur. Summer became autumn; autumn became winter (winter skipped spring and summer and jumped into fall); with the change of seasons came the change of the war. The Americans were losing, badly. Charleston was taken over about three years after the levy was signed. I was 21 (at least I think so, it was hard when I was born 200 years in the future), and had lived with the Martin family since my arrival in 1776. Only when I sorted through my personal belongings did I actually believe that my life in 2006 was anything but a dream. 

It was strange that, although I had worn and abused my things, nothing aged or worn out. They were exactly as they were when I left. My ipod never died, my jeans looked just as new and I never ran out of shampoo. I also had a few new items that I didn't ever remember packing. For example, I had four old school revolvers. You know, the ones use to 'win the west.' No idea where they came from. I also had my dad's old .22 caliber rifle.

Throughout the years, letters from Gabriel would come in every few weeks. He was always explaining to us what was happening on those distant battlefields. Who won, who lost, and hope that America would somehow change the tide in its favor.

Once such letter showed up a few weeks into October 1779. It was written for Thomas, since Gabriel sent letters to me separately. Thomas had gathered all of the children together to read the letter as soon as it came.

"_Dear Thomas: Though many seasons have passed it seems like only yesterday that we last saw each other in Charles Town. It was with great sadness that I learned of its recent fall to the British under General Cornwallis. I received a letter from Aunt Charlotte telling me that she had closed her home in Charles Town after the city fell, and moved to her plantation on the Santee. Here in the north, our campaign has been marked by defeat and privation. Our loses have been grievous. My good friend, Peter Cuppin, fell at Elizabethtown. His death has been difficult to bear. We are told that soon we will march south with General Gates to fight the Redcoats under Cornwallis. I envy you, your youth and distance from this cruel conflict of which I am a part. But I consider myself fortunate to be serving the cause of Liberty. And although I fear death each day in prayer I reaffirm my willingness to give my life in its service. Pray for me. But above all, pray for the cause. Your loving brother, Gabriel._"

Thomas folded the letter up and all the children went on to do their daily chores. I took my letter from Gabriel out of my back pocket, and ran to a secluded spot near the river that bordered the property. I unfolded the letter and read his beautiful script.

_My Dearest Stephanie,_

_How I miss your bright smile in these dark times. I received your letter just this morning and have already read it a dozen times. Your words of wisdom and encouragement have given more hope to me than a thousand victories. Life is difficult here, but your letters have touched my heart and have warmed me like nothing else. I'm sure you have heard from Thomas's letter of the fall of my dear friend. I will forever miss him, but thoughts of you have kept me alive and free from debilitating grief. Peter would always laugh when I told the stories from your letters and I swear he was ready to race back to South Carolina to meet you. I'm afraid you had quite an affect on him. I miss you, I don't believe I can express the depth of my affection. You are a dear friend and very special to me. I still see your smile and the warmth in your eyes. I do not know when I shall be home, but I hope it will be soon. Please, tell my father I miss him and that one day I will be back. I hope you continue to be well and I count the minutes until I'm home again with you. With love, Gabriel._

I refolded the letter and held it close to my heart. Over the years, Gabriel's and my relationship had grown into something beyond that of our friendship. We had written back and forth between one another and had kept a close correspondence during those long years. I hadn't yet to figure out what we were to each other, but I knew my feeling for him ran deep. I sighed wistfully as I gazed at the sparkling water.

However, something caught my eye. I jumped back from the bank like I had been burned when I realized what they were. There were bodies, horrible dead bodies with gashes and bullet wounds, in the water floating down stream. They were wearing both British and American Army uniforms and the look on their faces was horrible. Someone place a hand on my shoulder and I spun around screaming, intending a nice right hook on the persons face, but Benjamin (he believed me old enough to call him that) caught my fist before I could make contact. I stared wide-eyed at him. "Oh, I'm so sorry. You scared me."

"No, it's alright. You probably would have landed a nice blow there."

I tried to smile but the fact that dead bodies were meandering their way down river kinda killed it. Benjamin looked past me into the river. "We'll stay close to the house for a while. Don't tell the children about this, I don't want them frightened and Lord knows what Thomas will do."

I nodded my head and, with one final look behind me, followed Benjamin back to the house.

* * *

That night, loud sounds could be heard in the distance as the mists rolled over the fields. At first, I thought maybe it was fireworks or thunder, but it became apparent that the sounds were far from that. The sounds continued, so we all walked out onto the porch, to gain a bearing from which directing the booms were coming from. I could feel the back of my legs and neck prickling from nervousness and my stomach was knotted painfully. 

"Six-pounders," Benjamin said. "Lots of them."

"Well, that makes me feel better," I mumbled as I stared out across the fields and forests.

"How far away?" Samuel asked.

"Oh, they're a long way off. They're most likely heading in the other direction."

_Probably not_, I thought to myself. I had an ominous feeling about the whole thing, and this scene, I think, corresponded from what I last knew of _the Patriot_.

Almost immediately, Thomas came hurrying out of the house carrying two muskets, one of which he handed to Nathan.

"Put those in the house," Benjamin ordered in a 'don't-talk-back-to-me' kind of voice.

"But Father, they might come . . ."

"Thomas, must I tell you again?" Apparently not because Thomas took the weapon back and sulkily departed into the house.

"Let's all stay close in to the house tonight, all right?" He looked between the children. They all grumbled their agreement and shuffled their way inside. I stepped closer to Benjamin as he continued to look out at the horizon.

"Do you honestly believe they're moving away?" I looked up into his face as I wrapped my arms around myself to ward out the chill and my present fear.

"Honestly? I think they may be heading our way." He seemed tensed and a bit nervous himself.

"Lord, I hope not," I stared out, surveying the farm. "The last thing I wanna deal with are a bunch of lobsters."

This derived a chuckle from him and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. "Come on, let us go inside. This will pass; nothing to worry about."

* * *

Later that night, the sounds of the battle were drawing closer. In my anxiety, I decided to stroll around the perimeter of the house to try to easy it away. As I walked, I tried to remember the scenes from _the Patriot,_ so that I would have a vague reference for the events that I know were bound to occur. Unfortunately, my memory had faded over time and only the plot and some key scenes remained in my head.I cursed myself for not memorizing the movie like I did with _Pirates of the Caribbean_ and _Harry Potter._

Before long everyone was sitting down to dinner, but I did not have the energy, or the ability to eat. I feared that whatever was ingested would find away to resurface. Whilst I circled the house, I caught sight of someone stumbling down the road with a pistol in their hand. I was too far away to see who it was and quickly ran into the house to inform Benjamin.

I walked hurriedly into the dinning room, so as not to alarm the children, and whispered into Benjamin's ear. "There's someone coming up the drive. I couldn't see you it was, but I know it's a soldier. He's got a pistol."

Benjamin was startled for a minute, but quickly he regained composure and followed me out into the hall. I could tell the children were curious, but Abigale quickly distracted them. I think she knew that what ever was going on was serious.

"Stay here, close to the children. I'll be right back. And don't say anything." He disappeared up stairs. With a monster eating up my stomach, I shuffled my way down the hall, and stared out the door that led from the kitchen to the hallway. I had a pretty good view of the front door, but shadows were still cast along the walls.

After a time, the man appeared in front of the door. I held my breath as he turned the knob and entered into the house. I still couldn't see his face, but as he shuffled toward the dinning room where the children were, I pulled a knife from a wooden block and prepared to charge him. However, Benjamin got to him first. Locking the trigger, he pointed it at the stranger's back.

"Slowly turn," he ordered. As the man turned around, moonlight crossed his face. I gasped and dropped the knife, letting it clatter to the floor, and rushed out the door. I reached Gabriel just as Benjamin caught him in his arms.

"Abigale! Water and bandages fast."

Ben shuffled into the parlor, where I had been brought all those years ago, burdened under the weight of Gabriel while the rest of us trailed behind. Gabriel cried out in pain as he fell onto a lounge chair. I pushed past the children, who were staring at their bother with wide eyes. I threw myself to my knees on the other side of the couch and grabbed Gabriel's hand, which he squeezed from the pain. Thomas also ran into the room, trying to hound Gabriel about the battle.

"Thomas, not now!" I barked. Thomas ignored me.

"Have you seen any redcoats?" Gabriel asked.

"No, not yet." Benjamin explained as he gripped Gabriel's shirt, ready to rip it so that he may see Gabriel's wounds. He looked at his family, gathered around their older brother. "Abigale, the children, please."

Like a mother hen, Abigale opened her arms and herded everyone out of the room. I stayed by Gabriel's side as Benjamin ripped the shirt open and found a large gash, just under Gabriel's left ribcage. I gasped at I saw the amount of blood around the wound and Gabriel gripped my hand harder.

"Maybe you should also leave," Ben suggested.

I shook my head furiously. "No, I'm staying."

"I really. . ."

"Father, let her stay, please," Gabriel moaned out. Ben paused for a moment then nodded his head and began to clean the blood from the wound.

"Oh, Gabriel, what happened?" I choked out looking up and down his body, amazed at the amount of blood.

"Gates marched us straight at the Redcoats. Our lines broke. The British Green Dragoons cut us to bits," I stiffened at hearing of the infamous Calvary. _Tavington_. "I was given these dispatches. As I left, I saw the Virginia Regulars surrender. The Dragoons rode into them. Killed them all. Over 200 men." All though Gabriel's story, Ben had cleaned and wrapped the wound. As he finished Gabriel tried to rise, wanting to get the dispatches to Hillsborough. Both Benjamin and I stopped him, forcing Gabriel to lie back down.

"You're in no position to ride," Benjamin argued.

"I can't stay here! It's not safe--" Suddenly a large BOOM resounded outside and men's voices where heard shouting. Then, more sounds of canon fire were heard, along with the quick, rapid thud of gun fire. The battle had moved into our very backyard.

Ben looked up in the direction of all the noise. His stood up, picked up his pistol and proceeded to the back door. I stayed next to Gabriel, never letting his hand go for a second. He followed his father with his eyes, and then turned his gaze to me. Although his eyes were filled from the pain from his wounds, warmth crept into them.

"Hi," he smiled.

A chuckle escaped me lips despite the tears that were running down my cheeks. "Hi, yourself. You know this wasn't the way I pictured you coming home to us." More yelling, more firing. His eyes grew a bit misty as they stared into mine.

"Neither did I. I wanted to return like a hero with a victory behind me. Like that man in the story from your letters. What was his name? Aragorn? Not with a lost battle and as a messenger boy." He tried to laugh but I knew it hurt him to do so.

My eye's filled once more with tears. "You'll always be a hero to me. Just like Aragorn." Gabriel smiled and pulled my hand to his lips, brushing a kiss long my knuckles. I smiled in return, a faint blush on my cheeks and my heart pounding. I reached up and swept my hand along his forehead, pushed his sweat soaked hair out of his eyes and let my hand trail down, cupping his cheek.

"You should sleep," I whispered. "It's the only way you're going to get better."

"How can I sleep when I know I'm finally home? Besides, I have to get. . ."

"No, you don't have to do anything but rest, Gabriel Martin," I squeezed his hand and stared hard into his eyes. "The only thing you would accomplish would be to have yourself killed, and I will not allow that." He sighed, and winced, which only proved my point. "Please try to get some sleep." He nodded his head grudgingly and closed his eyes. I stood up and tried to remove my hand from his grip, however, he held on firmly.

"Gabriel, let go." He feigned sleep. "I know you're not asleep. Please, I have something I need to go do." I pulled my hand a little harder and he released it. "I promise I'll be back soon." I leaned over and left a gentle kiss on his forehead. I left him to sleep, only turning around when I was about to leave the room and saw a cheeky smile plastered to his face.

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**There you are, two unbeliveably long chapters. I hope you like them and please leave reviews. Until next time, Happy Christmahanukwansaka!**


	7. Chapter 7: Actions and Consequences

**Well, I hope everyone had a great holiday and Happy Early New Years!!!! Thanks everyone for the reviews so far. I work hard to make this story just right.**

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Chapter 6: Actions and Consequences **

As soon as I left I met up with Ben hurrying back into the house. I could see behind him the gunfire out in the fields. I watched almost horror struck as more men fell. Then suddenly, the scene was blocked by Ben's chest.

"How is he?" Benjamin was looking in the direction of Gabriel's motionless form.

"I told him to sleep. I think it's the best thing for him, considering. . ." I left the sentence in the air. Benjamin nodded his head, rubbing his eyes and looking extremely worn out.

He dropped his arm from his face and gripped my shoulders firmly as he stared into my eyes. "We're going to wait until the battle stops; it shouldn't be more than another hour. Then Thomas and I will go out into the field and see what we can find. I want you to stay in here and keep the children calm. I need you to help me with this, Stephanie." I nodded in acceptance. He dropped his hands from his shoulder and walked off in direction of the kitchen. Taking a large breath to steady my nerves, I climbed the stairs up to my room.

It was the same room I had since my coming to the farm. Benjamin explained that it was the room that Charlotte used whenever she came to visit, but he allowed me to stay in it. Shortly after it became my permanent room. Quickly and quietly as I could, I grabbed my black L.L.Bean backpack from under the bed and laid it across a chair. I knew what was happening and what was going to happen. Tavington, _the_ Colonel Tavington was coming tomorrow and he was going to seize Gabriel, burn every building on the farm, and kill Thomas. I stopped my hasty retrieval of my clothes and other items and glared out the window towards the man who didn't even know I existed. _I will not let it happen. I will die before Thomas. I vow it!_

I then doubled my speed and threw everything that would possibly fit into my bag. I managed a few jeans and shirts, along with all my underwear and toiletries. I also made sure to pack my ipod, cell phone, ipod speakers, sketchbook/pencils and the small hand guns that appeared out of nowhere along with as much ammunition as I could manage (the guns came locked and loaded with more to spare.). I was tempted to warn the rest of the family, but I knew that I was messing too much with the 'space time continuum' as it was, so I left it be. I also laid my rifle over my bag so it would be easy to reach. I was not going to go down without a fight.

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True as Benjamin said, the battle ended about an hour after the armies had entered our field. Benjamin and Thomas set out to assess the damage, both holding a musket. After I had packed as much as I could, I snuck my backpack and the rifle outside, away from the house. Hopefully no one would find it in the morning.

Shortly after Benjamin and Thomas set out, I returned to the parlor to check on Gabriel. He was sleeping ever so peacefully. I just smiled to myself as I watched his chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. He was so cute like that.

My musing of Gabriel was interrupted when I heard Ben and Thomas return with a wounded soldier strung between them. _Oh this is going to be a long night.

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I felt very proud of myself. I had only lost the contents of my stomach twice during the whole night of treating injured soldiers, both British and American. I was so busy with trying to save lives that I never really thought about what I'd seen, what I felt, and what I smelled. Some men were far past rescuing, so we only tried to make their last hours as comfortable as possible. I have never seen more death and suffering in my life and it had a dramatic effect on me.

It also sickened me when I saw boys, no older than Thomas, dieing so young fighting a war that they had no business fighting it. Don't mistake me, I'm proud to be an American, but I believe that there is always a better way to end disagreements than war. More than once I had a young man stop me as I ran to retrieve water or bandages and asked me to write a letter to his family or to pray with him. My heart was so filled with emotion that at times, I just had to go off and cry.

Finally the sun rose, and I have never felt so glorified to see another day. The night felt as if it would have lasted for all eternity. Taking a quick look down at my clothing, I was disgusted to see so much blood, dirt, and God knows what else plastered and stained all it. Things had since calmed down enough that I slipped into the house and changed into a pair of jeans and a blue T-Shirt that I was unable to pack before.

I scrambled down the stairs, pausing only to see that it was already nine o'clock in the morning, and then ran outside. Gabriel had woken up and was buttoning his shirt as he surveyed the masses around him.

"They were all wounded in the battle last night," I spoke as I walked up behind him. Gabriel turned and regarded me. "We couldn't leave them to die in the fields."

Suddenly we heard the sound of approaching troops and saw hundreds of British soldiers materializing out of the cornfields. The blood drained from my face and my heart rate increase as I stared out at the sea of red. Gabriel stepped up next to me and also observed the scene. We glanced at each other and knew: _this is not good._ I had to clasp my hands together to keep them from shaking.

Benjamin seemed to have sensed our discomfort because he looked up from helping an injured Continental soldier to us, following our gazes to the looming soldiers.

One man, an officer by the look of his clothing, started up the steps, examining the carnage around him. Gabriel, whether consciously or subconsciously, stepped in front of me, cutting off my view of the man. Benjamin marched forward toward the officer who had turned and walked right past Gabriel and me. Gabriel had turned his head to avoid having the officer see his face. I quirked my eyebrow at his movements, but Gabriel shook his head, begging me with his eyes for silence.

"Thank you, for the care of his Majesty's soldiers," the officer told Benjamin. He was about to reply when the thundering of horses was heard heading for the house. I spun my head around and saw the Green Dragoons riding up on their sleek and well bred horses. I gasped in both fear and surprise at the magnitude of power they emanated. Gabriel tried to wrap and arm around me, but I brushed him off and ran to the front, standing at the top of the stairs. Then I saw him. Tavington. He looked the very same as the actor, Jason Isaacs, from the movie; the same air of arrogance and brutality and just as handsome. I took a shaky breath, preparing myself for what was to come.

Gabriel came and stood next to me. He reached down and took my hand in his own. We locked gazes for a moment then turned our attention at the event at hand.

The officer, a lieutenant, hastily scrambled down the stairs to speak with Tavington. He bowed his hat to him then waited for orders.

"Lieutenant, have a detachment take out wounded to our soldiers at Winnsboro," Tavington began. My knees wanted to buckle when I heard his voice but a tendril of anger held me up as he began to observe his surroundings.

"Fire the house and barns," Tavington ordered.

"What?!" I shouted. Gabriel squeezed my hand in warning.

Tavington locked his icy gaze with mine, looking me up and down from my black converse sneakers to my blue T-shirt that read 'You're Not Worthy'. "Let it be known that if you harbor the enemy, you will lose your home." Anger, full and hot surged through me. I knew this was coming, I had known for years, but dammit, I was not going to let it happen! Snatching my hand from Gabriel's hold I scrambled down the stairs and toward the colonel. Anger had left little room for fear.

"You can't do that! You have absolutely no right!"

Tavington once again glared at me, "Oh? Can't I?" He replied in that stupid innocent tone. I glared at him with more ferocity than I knew I had within me. Gabriel ran down the stairs and yanked me around to face him as Tavington caught sight of the freedmen.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Gabriel whispered furiously. "Do you want to get yourself killed?"

"I can't stand by and let this . . . _man_, burn down everything your father has worked for!"

"It can be rebuilt."

Shaking my head, I glanced at Benjamin, who was standing there stony faced, then back at Tavington. A soldier brushed by Gabriel and me, which sent me flying into Gabriel's arms; the soldier was carrying the dispatches to his commander. My eyes widened and I felt Gabriel tense. _Shit! Shit! Shit! Think fast, think fast!_ Tavington reached down and took the papers from the soldier, then stiffened when he discovered what they were. Reading the dispatched he called out, "Who carried this?" When no one was forth coming he screamed, "WHO CARRIED THIS?!"

Before Gabriel could say anything, I stepped forward, "I did."

Again the icy gaze was on me. I gulped and continued, "Well, sort of."

"Sort of?" He remarked raising a dark eyebrow.

"I-I found them on-on a wounded soldier. I was going to burn them, but well I became little bit preoccupied." I answered stepping forward a few more steps.

He stared at me, daring me to break eye contact. The silent battle raged between us for a few seconds before his smiled and chuckled cynically. "You know, lying is not very becoming of you." I stared at him in shock. No way had he seen through that. _I_ almost believed it.

"Now, I will ask again, who carried this?!"

This time Gabriel stepped forward and I felt my heart clench. "I did, sir." I turned my head and stared at him. Regret was in his eyes but he focused on Tavington. "I was wounded. These people gave me care. They have nothing to do with the dispatches."

Benjamin walked down the steps and stood next to me. He was angry and scared for his oldest son.

Tavington tied the dispatches back up. "Take this one to Camden. He is a spy. Hang him, put is body on display."

"No," I turned my scared eyes on Gabriel as two Redcoats ran forward and grabbed him.

Luckily Benjamin stepped forward, finally taking command. "He's a dispatch rider and that's a marked case."

"Destroy the livestock. Save the horses for the dragoons."

"Colonel, this is a uniformed dispatch rider carrying a marked case," Benjamin walked forward and stood next to Tavington's horse. "He cannot be held as a spy."

"Well, we're not going to hold him. We're going to hang him," Tavington answered. I narrowed my eyes at the insolent sound of his voice; my fist's clenching so hard my nails bit into the skin. Gabriel's eyes locked with mine. He was scared. I tried to reassure, _you're not going to die. I promise._

"Colonel—"

"Father!"

Understanding finally registered with Tavington. "Oh, I see," his stare turned on Gabriel. "He's your son." Benjamin couldn't repute it so he stayed silent. "Well, perhaps you should've taught him something of loyalty"

"Colonel, I beg you, please reconsider. By the rules of war—"

"Rules of War. Would you like a lesson, sir, in the rules of war?" Tavington growled as he pointed his loaded pistol at Benjamin. I heard the children gasp behind me and slowly backed up, ready to protect them when his gun moved to them. Tavington didn't let me down. He turned his gun on the children saying, "Or perhaps your children would?"

Quickly, I flung my arms out and more or less shouted, "Dude, if you harm one hair on any of their heads, I will _personally_ rip you a new asshole!"

First the looks I received were ones of shock since no one had ever heard me swear to anyone before. Then the gazes turned to either anger or amusement.

"You dare threaten an officer of the Crown?" Tavington was one of the ones that were shocked. I had the satisfaction of that, but his shock turned to barely compressed rage really quickly.

"Um . . . Yea, I think so," I mocked as I bowed, flinging my arms out ridiculing him.

"Stephanie, stop this, immediately." Benjamin was very angry so I reluctantly consented, but not before I sent a withering look at Tavington. He looked at if he would've been more than happy to shoot _me_, but turned his gaze on the lieutenant.

"Sir, what about the rebel wounded?"

"Kill them."

Yea, I don't listen to orders well. "Absolutely, positively not! These are wounded soldiers and under the Geneva Convention, the wounded and sick shall be collected and cared for by their residing military unit. You cannot kill them!"

I hadn't added the fact that the Geneva Convention wasn't established until 1864, but it didn't matter. Tavington whipped out his pistol and pointed it at me as soldiers filed by to obey his orders. "I have enough of you impudence, girl! One more word and I will put a bullet through you. Do you understand?" I glared at him, remaining silent. "I said, do you UNDERSTAND?!"

"Stephanie!" I looked at Gabriel who was pleading at me with his eyes. I glanced back at Tavington and nodded my head angrily. Just as I turned around to walk back to Benjamin, Thomas took off, running after Gabriel who was being dragged and tied to a cart.

"Thomas, NO!" I shouted as I ran after him. In my anger I had forgotten that Thomas would try to save Gabriel. I forced my legs faster, even though Thomas had a good head start. I heard Benjamin yell wait, but just as I was about to reach him, Tavington had his pistol cocked and shot Thomas in the back. A second later I was there, catching Thomas in my arms as he fell to the ground. Benjamin arrived as I laid Thomas against me. I heard something along the line of "Stupid boy" from above me. I looked up into Tavington's steel blue eyes, tears streaming down my cheeks. Grief was now the emotion coursing through my veins at a dangerous rate. All thought of safety were gone. "You bastard! You mother fing, sonofabitch BASTARD!"

"Colorful," he sneered. Tavington motioned to his Dragoons to set fire to the house and rode off. I followed him with my eyes, sending death glares at him, but he never dropped. Gabriel was struggling to get back but it was futile. His sad eyes looked into mine. _I'm sorry._ I pleaded with my eyes. _I'm so sorry._

I dropped my gaze to the dying boy lying on my lap, his life's blood flowing onto my hands and knees. I had failed. I vowed to save Thomas's life but my own anger had me focused more on annoying Tavington than on the task at hand.

Ben was holding on to Thomas's hand while stroking his hair away from his face. Thomas had gone deathly pale from the loss of blood and his breathing was labored. Tears were freely falling down my face as I watched the life ever so slowly leave Thomas's body. And then he was gone.

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**Yay! Tavvy has finally shown up!!! Unfortunataly he's a bit of an ass in this chapter, but that's why we all love him. Review and I may be persuaded to add a chapter sooner than normal. :-)**


	8. Chapter 8: Revenge

**Hello everyone! Hoped you had a nice week. New chapter time. Yay!**

_Warning: Ok, many of us have seen the Patriot and know what's envovled, but if you really don't like violence this chapter may not be to your liking. I tried to keep it as PG-13 as possible, but I don't know how all ya'll will take it. Just warning you now._

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Chapter 7: Revenge

He was gone. The boy, who I had come to love as a brother, was gone. Shot for no reason other than trying to save someone else's life. As Thomas passed, I gently crawled from underneath him and laid him on the ground. All around me more death was occurring as the British soldiers killed the wounded Continentals, but I didn't care. I was suddenly numb from all emotion and pain.

The children had gathered around Benjamin and me as we had held Thomas. They were clinging to one another in their grief. I couldn't look at them. I just stared into Thomas's emotionless face. He was here, not a half hour ago; he was alive and well. It was my fault. I knew he was going to die and I did nothing to stop it.

I could see Benjamin crouched down next to Thomas, breathing heavily. Grief and anger were radiating off him like heat from a fire. His eyes twitched as he looked between us. "All of you, stay here." Benjamin took off, running into the burning house. The children watched him go, but diverted their attention to Thomas.

Revenge. The idea hit me hard and I knew what was fueling Benjamin. My rifle was behind the house, where my other belongings were stashed. I took one more fervent look at Thomas, then stood up and walked back to my hiding area.

"Stephanie! Father said to wait here!" Nathan yelled after me, but I ignored him. I stomped over to the bush, and kicked aside the green blanket used to camouflage my backpack and firearms. I picked up my rifle and slung the strap around my head so that it crossed the front of my chest. Then I dug into the bag and found two of the revolvers and the holster they came in. Strapping that on as well, I grabbed a butt-load of ammunition and headed back to the front of the house. As I reached the children, Benjamin was exiting the building carrying muskets, rifles, and the infamous tomahawk. He took one look at me, and was probably going to argue, but with the look on my face, he made no argument.

"Nathan, Samuel." Both the children stood up and stumbled their way over to Ben. He handed them their muskets then turned to the rest of the children. "Margret, I want you to hide in the fields with William and Susan. If we're not back by sunset, I want you to take them to your Aunt Charlotte's. Is that clear?" It took her a great effort to nod her head, but through her grief she prevailed. "Boys, Stephanie." Benjamin took off running in the direction that the Redcoats had earlier gone. I looked at Nathan and Samuel, then took of as well, with them close behind.

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Into the forest we ran. The leaves were covering the morning sun, casting shadows over the leaf strewn ground. Over logs and under branches we dodged and leap, hurrying as fast so we could to intercept the caravan that was holding Gabriel. The paths we were following were practically invisible, but we all knew them like the back of our hands. Benjamin had made sure of it.

Finally we crossed a narrow stream and appeared on the main rode between us and Camden. Benjamin kneeled in the middle of the road, taking in the hillside and tree cover. I placed my hands on my knees, trying to suck oxygen into my lungs, and then followed the men up the slope. We stopped behind a fallen tree, desperately trying to catch our breath and figure out what the hell we were gonna do.

"It's a good spot." Benjamin observed the view. "Boys, Stephanie, listen to me. I'll fire first. I want you three to start with the officers and work your way down. Can you tell the difference?" The boys nodded but I was lost.

"Um . . . no, but I'll figure it out."

"Good. Samuel, after your first shot, I want you to reload for your brother Nathan. Stephanie, can you reload for yourself?"

I swung my rifle off my back and showed it to him. "No problemo. It's a .22 caliber rifle. Everything's already locked and loaded."

"I've never seen if before."

"It came from home." Understanding dawned on him and he nodded.

"Now, if anything should happen to me, I want you three to drop your weapons and I want you to run as quickly as you can. Now you hide in the brush, make your way home, get your brother and your sisters and you take them to your Aunt Charlotte's. Understood?" Poor Samuel looked like he was ready to cry, and probably was. "What did I tell you fellas about shooting?"

"Aim small, miss small."

"Aim small, miss small. You have that Steph?" I nodded. He was still breathing heavily, but a resolve had come over Benjamin. "Boys, Stephanie . . . steady." I swallowed and nodded. The boys hunkered themselves down behind the log, but I was not shooting there. I got up to move, but Benjamin stopped me. "What are you doing?"

"That tree can hide two, but not three. I'm going to position myself behind that large tree over there," I pointed.

His gazed over his shoulder at that spot and nodded. "Have you ever shot a gun before?"

"Yes, but only at a piece of paper on a sand bag."

His eyes took on a gentleness as he reached up and gripped my shoulder. "Don't think about what's happening. Just aim and shoot. The rest will come on its own." I nodded curtly and brushed past him, preparing myself for the event to come. "And Stephanie," I turned around to look back at him. "I don't want any heroics. Understand?" I was half-tempted to roll my eyes but reduced it to merely dipping my head. We took our positions and waited.

In only ten minutes the caravan of British infantry was seen meandering through the trees straight at our hiding place. In the middle of the caravan was the wagon in which Gabriel was tied to. He was walking slowly along; full of grief and anger.

My back was flat against the tree truck as I held the rifle, barrel up. I took several breaths to steady and prepare myself for the killing I would do. I had never taken anything's life in my life except for occasional bug and when I went fishing. I reasoned with myself that these men were already dead before I was born; this was still the movie and they were extras, just waiting for the cue to get up; I've already seen them die in the movie, so this was no different. Those were the reasons that convinced me that I wouldn't be going to hell for this. At least I prayed not.

Ben was behind a tree like me a few paces down. I saw him throw himself against its trunk and whisper something to himself. I glanced to my left and saw the first few redcoats pass my tree, completely unaware that I was there.

I caught movement from the corner of my eye and saw Ben step to the left and aim his musket at a redcoat on horseback. He took aim and fired with deafening crack. The man toppled from the horse as the other Redcoats scrambled around, trying to discover who had fired and from where.

As soon as the first shot was fired, I imitated Ben by stepping out to the right and taking aim, making sure the butt of the gun was firmly held against my shoulder. I inhaled then let the breath out slowly as I counted. _One, two, three, four._ By five I had a man's head in my focus and pulled the trigger. The backfire forced the gun into my shoulder as the bullet was repelled out, hitting him between the eyes. I could see the splatter of blood and brain that had been projected from the back of his head land onto a soldier next to him. I closed my eyes and swung back around just as a crap load of musket bullets were imbedded into my tree. Apparently they saw me.

I pulled the bolt back, which shot out the shell casing, then took a new bullet and loaded it in the gun. Snapping the bolt shut again, I prepared to fire when their attention was drawn off me.

Nathan and Samuel got two nice shots in, which diverted the attention to the ridge. I took aim again and just as I fired, Benjamin fired as well, subsequently from the tree next to mine. Two more were down, followed by another from Nathan. I tried not to think of the blood that was being spilt and the lives I was cutting short. Aim, fire, reload. Aim, fire, reload. A rhythm was soon established until only about ten or twelve redcoats were left.

Benjamin pulled his knife and tomahawk from his belt then looked to me. I nodded. _Show time._ I dropped my rifle and grabbed the two revolvers from the holster strapped at my waist. I had already loaded them so I cocked the hammers and waited for the signal. As soon as Nathan's last shot found its mark, both Benjamin and I materialized from behind the trees and ran down the bank toward the soldiers.

Adrenaline was high in my system. I did not think and I did not feel; my mind was officially in auto pilot. I don't even think I even took aim, just pointed the gun and pulled the trigger. I had taken out four before they even realized we were there. I curved my body and saw one soldier hit Gabriel in the stomach, knocking the air out of him and forcing him to the ground.

I pulled the hammer back on the revolver in my right hand and was about to fire when I felt a sharp pain graze my arm. I spun around, dropping my guns in the process. Shocked registered on the face of the soldier behind me as I spun, punching him square in the face. I don't think he was expecting a woman to be fighting. Crouching down I took the legs out from under him, making him land straight on his back, then flipped around and landed a kick to his abdomen. Growing up with three older brothers who had at least a 1st class brown belt in karate, I had learned early to defend myself or get the crap kicked outta me.

A sixth sense had me rolling out of the way as a bayonet flew down and buried itself in the spot I had been seconds before. The man who was holding the musket attached had a terror crazed look to his eye and charged me full on. I of course had no sword or knife and was cursing myself for dropping my guns which were a good six feet away.

Just the man was about to reach me, Benjamin leap in front and took the guy out. I mean really took the guy out. Using his large knife, Ben cut an X formation on the guy's chest, took his legs out with the tomahawk then sliced the man's throat in a ferocious speed that was almost inhuman.

Ben and I were still aided by Nathan, who was a damn good shot. He took out one more soldier before Ben ran over and killed three more Redcoats. I stopped and watched, fascinated by the speed and ferocity in which Ben fought. There was no holding back and no mercy shown.

Ben stopped and stared back behind me after he killed the last soldier in range. His reaction of course forced me to turn around and see what he was looking at. Gabriel was being restrained by a blond Redcoat, who was holding a knife to his throat. The heart that I felt had been frozen during this whole ordeal suddenly jumped to life rather painfully.

Rapidly two more redcoats ran around from the front of the cart, their intense focus on me, since I was between Ben and them. Without hesitation, I dove to the side and grabbed one gun, took aim and fired, but nothing came out. I had used all the bullets. My eyes widened and the first trace of fear entered my body, but before the soldiers could take two steps toward me, Ben was fighting them head on.

The first one he reached, Ben knocked the man's gun aside with the tomahawk, then used the knife to slit the man's throat as Ben held onto the musket. Next, using the musket like a bat, he again shoved the bayonet from the other man away from his body and used the butt of the gun to smash the man's skull. Flipping the gun around, he shot the wounded man in the head.

Time seemed to slow down when there as only the one soldier left. The one who could very well end Gabriel's life with just a twist of his wrist. Ben hefted the tomahawk in his right hand and stared intently at the two of them. I knew what he was planning, and what he was going to do. Although I had seen it dozens of time, I still prayed that Ben's aim was true. It was. In a spilt second, the tomahawk was sticking out of the man's head causing blood ran down between his eyes. I took off running towards Gabriel. As the soldier slid down, the hand that held the knife cut Gabriel's neck slightly.

Movement behind me had me stopped me in my tracks. I turned around to see the soldier, whose butt I kicked earlier, running away in the opposite direction. Ben ran forward and withdrew the tomahawk from dead man's head, his full intent of leaving no one alive.

I moved out of the way as he came sprinting by, death clear in his intent. Closing the distance between me and Gabriel, I grabbed the rope around his hands, working on untying him. My hands were shaking furiously so I had a hard time gripping the knot. I finally got the knot straightened just as Nathan and Samuel scrambled down the ridge to Gabriel and me. As soon as the ropes were free from his wrists, Gabriel grabbed the sides of my head and captured my lips with his own. The kiss was swift but is shook me to the core.

"What was that for?" I asked breathless.

His eyes bore into mine, "I'm just happy to be alive. You saved my life; you all did." His attention was diverted to Nathan and Samuel who looked a wee bit embarrassed by the whole exchange.

We all turned when we heard the sound of a body falling into water. We saw that Benjamin had thrown the tomahawk, imbedding it in the back of the fleeing soldier. We stared in astonishment as he removed the tomahawk, only to bring it down again, and again, and again. All of his anger, all of his grief was being released as he slashed and as he screamed. For the first time since arriving, I was scared of Benjamin.

Nathan and Samuel looked on in perpetual shock. I don't believe that any of the days events had caught up to them. I could see that Gabriel was battling with himself if he should go try to stop Benjamin, or just let him go.

When blood began to sputter up I turned away. I could deal with the death of Thomas, I could deal with shooting a man, but I couldn't deal with this. Maybe I was weak, but there was only so much I could take. I heard Benjamin stumble over to us. I turned around expecting to see him cover in blood, but the scene in the movie could never compare to the actual event in real life. He was covered in it, his shirt stained red and a hollow look in his eyes. I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand and stumbled back behind Gabriel as the familiar burning sensation built up behind my eyes and wetness fell down my cheeks. This Benjamin I didn't know and I never would want to know him, for as long as I lived.

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**There you go. I hope you didn't cry too much. Review, tell me what you think and we'll go from there. See ya!**


	9. Chapter 9: Refuge

**Chapter 8: Refuge**

Quickly as we could, Nathan, Samuel and I gathered up the weapons that we left on the ridge while Benjamin and Gabriel removed the dead bodies from the wagon, clearing a track to get the wagon out of the carnage. I found my rifle and my two revolvers and put them in the back of the wagon. We rode back to the farm in silence, Ben driving the wagon while Gabriel and I rode the two horses from the other cart.

The smoke was still rising into the air, but only the charred skeleton of the house remained. Margaret was sitting on the stairs with Susan laying her head on Margaret's lap. William stood off to the side leaning against the wooden railing. They looked up as we approached; their sooty faces full of grief.

Ben walked in a haze as he surveyed his destroyed home and his son lying dead in front of it. He kneeled down next to Thomas's body, his own body shaking as he tired to regain control of his emotions.

I don't know what possessed me to do it, but I brushed past Gabriel and walked hesitantly up to Benjamin who was gathering up the little pewter soldiers that Thomas had made. I kneeled down next to him and laid my forehead against his blood covered shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I know it's stupid to say, but I'm so, so sorry," I whispered. Benjamin surprised me by letting out a sob and wrapping me in his arms, cradling my head against his shoulder. That motion of fatherly consolation broke my barrier of emotions and I began to weep as Ben did, wrapping my arms around him as well. I broke the embrace as the other children ran up, desperately wanting their father. I knew I could not be selfish so I stood and backed up, giving them room for the group hug, each trying to comfort the another.

Gabriel was the only one who didn't join. Instead he walked up to me and wrapped his arms around my body. I buried my head in his chest while sobs racked through my form. I tried to be strong, I really did, but I have never been a person with the ability to keep my emotions locked up. Sure I could control them for a while, but in the end they vowed release.

As soon as our emotions were spent as much as they would be for the time being, we set to work recovering whatever we could, which was precious little, and burying Thomas next to his mother under the huge oak tree. A short funeral as the sun set below the horizon ended our day, but we were far from done.

* * *

As soon as we laid Thomas to rest, Benjamin took the children to the front of the house, where the wagon was and prepared to take us all to Aunt Charlotte's. I meandered my way to the back and grabbed my backpack from the bush, throwing the straps across my shoulders. I turned my head and watched the last rays of the sun past below the horizon, casting the field into semi-darkness.

"We'd better hurry. Father's growing inpatient." I inclined my head as Gabriel stepped up next to me in the falling twilight. I raised my eyes up to stare into his handsome face. It was now or nothing.

"Gabriel, there's ah, there's something I need to tell you. Something I've been keeping from you." I needed to tell him who I really was. I couldn't keep lying to him any more; it wasn't fair. His eyes turned to mine, full of curiosity.

"What is it? Can it wait?" We heard Benjamin calling for us. I took a breath and began.

"No, it can't wait because I don't know if I will get the courage to tell you again. Remember all those months ago when you and," I faltered. "When you and Thomas found me, in the woods?"

"Yes?" He fully turned to me. I dropped my eyes and studied my feet. I couldn't look into his face.

"Well, I, um, see . . ." Dammit why couldn't I just say it. I plucked my courage together and faced him. "Look, I don't know how I got there but the last thing I remember is being in Connecticut. In 2006." Disbelief was clearly written on his face.

"Stephanie, what are you talking about?"

"The last thing I remember was that I was on my way to visit my brother and I got into a car accident. It was the year 2006 when it happened, like, you know, the 21st century." He still had a disbelieving look in his eye, but anger began to filter in. "I know it sounds crazy and strange, but it's true. I was born in 1988, in a city called Denver, Colorado. It's about 1800 miles due west from here and . . ."

"You expect me to believe this? What do you take me for? After everything that happened you're trying to tell me some insane story? Why?" He grabbed my shoulders shaking me slightly. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Benjamin coming around. I jerked out of Gabriel's grip.

"Stop it. I'm trying to tell you the truth of who I really am. I can't lie to you anymore, yet you accuse me of doing just that. After everything that happened today, I realized how important you all are to me. Please I'm not lying!"

"What's going on here? We need to go," Benjamin walked in-between Gabriel and me.

I took one look into Gabriel's anger filled eyes and knew I wasn't going to be getting anywhere. _Why did I even bother?_ "Nothing, let's go." I stalked past the two of them and threw my bag into the back of the wagon. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Ben and Gabriel talking to each other as they walked toward us. With tears threatening to spill again, I swung onto the mare I had ridden before and waited for the two of them to mount up. Ben leapt up onto the seat of the wagon while Gabriel shuffled past me.

"Stephanie, I—"

I kicked the horse forward down the drive. I was so angry that he didn't trust me when I spoke the truth and I didn't trust myself to talk to him right now. _Oui Ve!

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_

An hour later we were ridding up the way to Charlotte's plantation. As we pulled up, one of her groom ran forward, intending on taking the horses, but Ben continued right past, not even acknowledging him.

I saw Charlotte run out onto her deck as we approached. Quickly she greeted us and helped us unload the wagon and bring our things to the guest rooms. She was upset to learn of Thomas's death, but she was a remarkably strong woman and held her emotions in check. Caring for us was her first priority. As Charlotte went through her house, finding rooms and providing places for us to sleep, I put Margaret and Susan to bed while Ben went with the boys.

"Stephanie, I'm scared. What if they come back?" Margaret whispered to me.

My heart clenched at her fear and the very thought of Tavington and his men sent a jolt of anger through me. I brushed the blond whips from her forehead and smiled down at her. "Don't worry, everything will be fine. You know I'll never let anything happen to you, or Susan. I vow to you, I will protect you with my life."

"No," she shook her head. "Don't use your life. I don't know what to use, but you're better for Father and Gabriel if you're alive." I smiled again.

"I wish my Mama was back," Margaret whispered.

"I know you do. I want my Mama too." I sat down on the edge of the bed. "Whenever I was sad or upset, my mom used to sing to me." I smiled and glanced up, lost in the memory of my mother and her soft alto voice.

"What did she sing?"

"Oh many songs. I used to think she had infinite supply of them."

"Did you have a favorite?" I glanced down at Margaret and saw she was relaxing, no longer was her grief and fear so near.

Again I smiled and nodded my head. "Do you want to hear?" She nodded frantically, little Susan, who was asleep on her, shifted around but didn't wake. I took a breath then began to sing softly:

"_Hush-a-bye don't you cry, go to sleep my little baby. When you wake you shall have all the pretty little ponies. In your bed, mama said, baby's riding off to dreamland. One by one they've begun, dance and prance for little baby. Blacks and Bays, Dapples and Grays, running in the night. When you wake you shall have all the pretty little ponies. Can you see the little ponies dance before your eyes? All the pretty little ponies will be there when you arise. Hush-a-bye don't you cry, go to sleep my little baby. When you wake you shall have, all the pretty little ponies."_

She smiled and bobbed her head to the music. My own tears formed in my eyes at I sang, remember my mother's voice. I heard Charlotte enter the room and stood up, moving away as she walked forward, pulling the blankets further over Margaret and Susan.

"You're safe now. Try to sleep," Charlotte took hold of Margaret's hand. I walked out of the room and was heading toward the stairs when I heard Nathan. I stopped and sat on the bottom step, listening to the conversation.

"Father," Nathan whispered.

"Yes?"

"I killed those men."

"You did what I told you to do," Ben answered. "You did what you had to. There was no wrong in it."

"I'm glad I killed them." There was passion in Nathan's voice and anger. "I'm glad."

I heard Benjamin coming toward the staircase and rushed up them quickly, colliding with something on the top step. Strong arms grabbed me around the waist steadying me before I could topple back down. I looked up into the face of Gabriel. Immediately I tried to dislodge myself from his grasp, but he held on firmly.

"Let go of me," I growled as I fought.

"Stephanie, stop this," He pleaded.

"No, let go."

His pulled me back from the stairs which made me loose my balance and stumble. "Steph, please hear me out." I continued to struggle but his hold only increased until I finally gave up, but I refused to look at him. "Lord, you are a stubborn woman."

"Trying for flattery now?" I glared angrily at his chest.

"Stop, look at me." I tried not to, my pride was forcing me to stare straight ahead, but my heart forced my eyes upward, where I met his full of regret. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry about what happened; about what I said. Father talked to me." He stopped and inhaled a deep breath. "He told me the same story you did. He confirmed you were . . . where you were from." I looked away but he brought his hand under my chin, forcing my eyes back to him. "Please. With everything that has happened, I don't know, I just couldn't understand it. The story is so far fetched I would have had a hard time believing it under normal circumstances." His eyes pleaded with mine.

I pushed myself out of his arms, backing away from him. He looked dismayed by my rejection and lowered his arms slowly. "You're forgiven, but you're lack of trust in me will take a bit longer to forgive. Just, leave me alone. My emotions are all hay-wire right now." He nodded and walked past me down the stairs. I took a breath, letting it out slowly and headed for the room that I was given. I flopped down on the bed, burying my head in the pillow. Softy I heard a knock on the door and looked up to see Benjamin standing in the doorway.

"May I come in?" I sat up and nodded, motioning him in. He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed while I grabbed a pillow and hugged to my chest as I sat watching him.

"Let me guess. You heard all of that, didn't you?" I asked. Ben nodded his head.

"Yes, I did."

"I feel kinda stupid, like I'm blowing this whole thing out of proportion." I sighed, glancing out the window at the clear evening sky.

"I think you may have over reacted a little, but Gabriel did also. I was a bit reluctant to believe you at first when you told me your story on the way to Charles Town." I looked into his sad, blue eyes. "But I did believe, and Gabriel has also. Just don't take his initial rejection to heart. It's not customary to have someone claim to be from an entirely different century."

"Yea, I know. Gah!" I threw myself backwards. "I hate this whole 'emotional rollercoaster' thing." Ben smiled and patted my leg.

"I have no idea what you just said, but I think I get, how do you say it, the 'gist' of it?"

I laughed and sat up. "Dude, stick to your own lingo."

He chuckled and stood up. "Good night, Stephanie."

I laid down and snuggled into the pillow yawning as I did. "Good night, Ben." He walked out, shutting the door behind him. I tried to relax and shut my eyes, willing sleep to come. Slowly I was lost to the darkness, only to be plagued by dreams of a devilishly handsome man with ice blue eyes.

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**Ok, I know it's bad to have the OC sing, but I love that song with a passion and wanted to include it. Review and tell me what you think.**


	10. Chapter 10: The Price of Freedom

**Thank you to all my faithful reviewers! I've been sick this week and all of your reviews have made me feel a lot better. **

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Chapter 9: The Price of Freedom**

The next day I woke up before dawn and felt as if a truck had driven over my head. Groaning I sat up and stretched, working any and all kinks from my body. Getting up, I washed my face in the basin and changed into a pair of dark blue jeans, green T-shirt and dark grey hoodie. I hurried down the stairs only to skid to a stop on the last step when I heard Benjamin yell at Gabriel, "Don't you walk away from me, boy!"

"I'm sorry father; I'll find you when this is all over."

"No, no, you're not going, I-I forbid you to go." Benjamin was practically chasing Gabriel down. I watched as Gabriel spun around.

"I'm not a child!"

"You're my child!"

"Goodbye, Father." Gabriel walked out onto the porch where his horse was waiting.

"Gabriel, Thomas is dead. How many more will have to die before you heed my word." Ouch. I winced even though that wasn't directed towards me. Gabriel jerked his head around and stared at his father. Ben was trying desperately to gain control of his emotions while he stared back. Gabriel turned around and walked outside, swinging onto his horse. With one quick look back, he guided the horse around and took off toward the road.

I walked over to Charlotte and Ben as they watched him go. "I'm losing my family." And he stomped away. Charlotte and I looked at each other, sadness filling us both, and then our eyes drifted after Gabriel. Charlotte placed a comforting hand on my shoulder afterwards following Benjamin. I took one last look after Gabriel, my lips drawing into a thin line. I had a decision to make, so I whirled around, rushing back to my room. I had some planning to do.

* * *

A half hour later my plan was formed and I was ready to start the ball rolling. Grabbing my repacked backpack, I threw it across my shoulders, flipped my cowboy hat over my hair and grabbed my rifle on the way out of my bedroom door. I thudded down the stairs unceremoniously, coming to rest in the atrium. I looked around for Ben, but didn't see him, or anyone for that matter. With one more quick glance around, I opened the door, only to be stopped by Ben's voice. 

"Where do you think you're going?" Okay, here goes nothing.

I turned around slowly, meeting his frustrated gaze. He was dressed in full garb; vest, shirt, breeches, stockings, even that little ruffle thing around his neck. "I'm, ah, going outside," I answered.

"With your rifle and all of your belongings?" He walked towards me motioning toward the items.

I sighed. No use beating around the bush. "Ok, I'm going outside to wait for you to hurry up so we could go after Gabriel."

"We? Oh, no. You're not going anywhere."

"Yea-no, I am going." He grabbed my shoulders, shaking me slightly. I was stunned enough to drop my gun which clattered as it hit the floor.

"I've already lost one son to this war, another to death; I will not loose you as well! Not when you have come to mean as much as a daughter to me."

I gently reigned in my temper which threatened to explode. "I am 21 years old, almost 22. If I were a man, I would have already been fighting in this war long before now. I am going to go and I'm going fight, with or with out your permission." His eyes flashed and he shoved me back. I took a deep breath to steady my nerves. "Look, I'm not going to apologize because I have nothing to be sorry for. All my life I have taken my freedom for granted. Sure, as a student I learned of the sacrifices that were made to form this country, but I never understood the measure of those sacrifices. I do now." I stared at him straight on, never wavering. "Thomas was a brother to me and I feel his death just as strongly as you do, but I refuse to sit behind and worry about you guys while you go and fight, and possibly _die_, for something as monumental as this. I understand what the price of freedom is now, and I cannot call myself an American if I do not fight for that freedom. You can forbid me to go, as you did Gabriel, but I will find a way to fight, even if I have to hop, skip and jump to get there."

Ben sighed exasperatedly, rubbing a hand down his face. "Why must you be so damn stubborn?!" He looked around, at a loss on what to do. "Fine. I can't believe I'm saying this, but fine. You can come, but the Army won't allow you to enlist."

At this point I smiled. "Well that's alright, because I wasn't joining the Army. I'm joining the Militia."

* * *

"When will you be back, Father?" Young William asked as Ben and I were saying our goodbyes to the children and Charlotte. 

"I don't know," Ben answered.

"Tomorrow?" Oh, he's so cute.

"No, not tomorrow." He hugged William. "You say your prayers." Ben stood up after cupping William's cheek. "Nathan, I want you to take care of your brothers and sisters and your Aunt Charlotte," he told him as he shook Nathan's hand. "I'm depending on you. As I am on you, Samuel." He looked hard at Samuel for some reason. After addressing the older children, Ben picked Susan up, holding her above him. "Susan . . . goodbye?" However she didn't respond. After a few moments he kissed her forehead and sat her back down. As he said his awkward goodbye to Charlotte, I went through, distributing hugs and kisses to the kids who were now my family. When I got to Susan, she latched on around my neck with a strength that was surprising. I hugged her back with as much vigor and whispered, "I'll bring your Daddy back to you," She let go and I gently grasped her arms, staring into her beautiful blue eyes. "I promise." She nodded, her bottom lip quivering. I smiled slightly and stood up, stepping back from them.

"Stephanie." I turned and followed Ben over to the horses. I again had the same mare as before. I decided to name her Lainathiel (pronounced Lye-nah-thee-ell). As I hoped up onto her back I stroked her neck. "Come on, Lainathiel. Let's go catch up with Gabriel." We turned the horses and cantered down the road under the morning sun.

"Lainathiel?" Ben asked as soon as we were out of ear shot. He gave me a puzzled look. I smirked as we rode on.

"Yes. Lainathiel, that's what I decide to name this horse." I patted her neck affectionately. "It means freedom in elv- in another language." How the hell was I going to explain Elvish to him?

"Oh. I like it. It's . . ."

"Weird?"

"Well, I was going to say unique, but weird works too." I chuckled and rolled my eyes as we continued on.

We passed many plantations along the road we were traveling. However, after a certain point, the houses became more and more deserted. I asked Ben about it but he only shrugged. He thought that maybe, with the war moving in, many people left to avoid dealing with Redcoat or Continentals.

At one point we came across a plantation that was empty, however, many of its contents were strewn along outside, as if whoever left, left in a great hurry. We pulled our horses to a stop and decided to investigate. We hopped down and led our horses up the house where we saw another horse tied outside; it was Gabriel's.

It was a very beautiful house, except of course for the fact that it looked as if burglars had had a field day. As we climbed the steps up, we heard the ominous sound of canon fire, and it was close. Ben motioned me to be quite and we clambered our way into the house and up the stairs to the second story. Shortly after, the sounds of men's cries and musket fire were audible. We entered a bedroom that was facing west and saw Gabriel standing there, observing the battle that was commencing. There were far too many Redcoats and too few Continentals in the green field beyond the window.

Gabriel turned and stopped dead when he saw us standing behind him. "I'm not going back," he said with finality.

"No, I didn't expect you would," Ben answered, stepping up to gaze out of the window. He sighed. "That Gates is a damn fool. He spent too many years in the British Army. Going muzzle-to-muzzle with Redcoats in an open field. It's madness."

I saw the British stop, preparing to fire on the Americans. "Oh, boy. This is not gonna be pretty."

Gabriel turned back and observed me. "Stephanie, what . . . what are you doing here?"

I pulled my gaze from the battle field where a good many men fell from the volley of Redcoat muskets. "Same as you."

He opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. "What? No, you can't possibly . . . you're not coming to fight?"

"Yes she is," Benjamin remarked, turning to face us. "She is coming. She's good with that rifle of hers and she's got a few tricks that could be beneficial."

"But Father, it's too dangerous. Besides a wo—"

"If you say I cannot fight because I'm a woman, so help me God Gabriel, I will shoot you myself." I marched myself right up to him, my brows drawn over my eyes in anger. He had the decency to take a step back.

"Did I mention she can hold her own?" Benjamin eyes held a bit of amusement in them. Our eyes were drawn back to the field where the Dragoons were making their appearance. "This battle was over before it began." Ben and Gabriel turned around to head back out, but I stood transfixed as I watched Tavington kill many of my countrymen. _Why do the bad guys have to be so yummy looking?!

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_

An hour later, Ben, Gabriel, and I found ourselves at the Continental Army's camp. Before we entered, I had changed into less 'feminine' looking clothing as Benjamin called it, and into something a bit more . . . concealing. I had also taken my long chestnut hair and coiled it on top of my head, covering it with my black cowboy hat. All that was left was to pop the collar of my shirt a bit and walked with a little less grace. When we entered the camp, the somewhat happy mood from before dissipated in an instant. Men were screaming from the work of the surgeons, some of who were removing limbs while other men hung around their tents, disheartened and exhausted. I averted my eyes and kicked my horse forward to keep pace with Ben and Gabriel.

We dismounted besides a large white tent close to the center of camp. Ben went over to ask where the commanding officer was while Gabriel and I hung back. Glancing down, Gabriel saw a torn up and dirty American flag lying on the ground. Hesitantly he walked over and picked it up. A man with a bloodied bandage around his head spoke up with no hope in his voice. "It's a lost cause." Gabriel said nothing, just stuffed the abused flag into his bag and walked away.

I saw Ben head into the tent someone had pointed to, and followed him inside. He strolled over to a man who was leaning on a desk, obviously overwhelmed. When he looked up I was looking into the face of Colonel Burwell. He ignored me completely, his gaze focused on Ben. "Benjamin Martin. I'm in no mood for a lecture."

"Where's your General Gates now?"

"Well the last anyone saw, riding hard northeast, his staff a hundred yards behind trying to catch up." If I wasn't so focused on trying to appear as a guy, I might have snorted.

"So who's in command?" Ben asked.

"I am," the Colonel, or General, motioned his head. "I think."

"What are my orders?" I think the . . . I think Burwell was a bit surprised by Ben's question. Surprised and relieved at the same time.

He stepped forward and smiled, clasping Ben on the back. "We're a breath away from losing this war, Benjamin." He took Ben over to a table where a map of the eastern US was laid out. I stepped forward and looked down at the map. Burwell indicated up by Virginia. "In the north, Washington is reeling from Morristown. He's running and hiding from 12,000 Redcoats. In the south, Cornwallis has broken our back. Captured over 500 of our troops when he took Charles Town."

"And he destroyed the only army between him and New York. So now there's nothing to stop him from heading north to finish off Washington." Washington, _the_ George Washington. I prayed that I would live long enough to be able to meet him. Him and Ben Franklin and many of the other of the Founding Fathers.

"Unless we can keep Cornwallis in the south till the French arrive. They promised a fleet and 10,000 troops." _Hehe, the French._ I don't know why I found that funny.

"When?" Ben asked.

"Ahhhh, six months at the earliest."

"You actually trust the French to keep their word?" Burwell's eyes drifted to the corner of the tent.

"Absolument." A voice declared. All of us looked to the corner where a blond man was sitting in a light blue uniform. This man stood up and walked over, his hard eyes trained on Benjamin. I stepped back slightly from his withering gaze.

"Benjamin Martin. Major Jean Villeneuve. French Seventh Light Foot. He will help train the militia." _Oh great, my new drill sergeant._

"The hero of Fort Wilderness. Your reputation precedes you." I looked between the two men. Ben tried to look everywhere but at us.

"You really expect to hold Cornwallis here using just militia?" I was very tempted to take offense to that, but merely glowered at the back of Ben's head.

"Not me. You." Ben laughed at Burwell's statement.

"Harry, they're not soldiers, they're farmers," _Hello! Right behind you, you big oaf!_ "They'd be better off just letting the British march through."

"I don't think your friend agrees with you," Villeneuve said pointing to me. I guess my glaring was pretty evident if the French dude noticed. Ben turned a scowling look on me, but ignored Villanueva's statement.

"They'd be better off, but the cause wouldn't." Burwell walked away from us, grabbing a quill and paper he began to write something.

"How many men does Cornwallis have under his command?"

"8000 infantry. Around 600 Calvary." My mouth dropped open. That's a lot of men. "I'm giving you a field commission as a Colonel."

"Might I request sir, that you transfer my son here under my command?" Gabriel did not look happy.

"Sir, no I—"

"That's done."

"Thank you." Ben and Gabriel exited the tent quickly, Gabriel arguing about being under the command of his father. Jean and I moved a little more slowly.

"You're 'oftly small for a boy. I thought you Americans were 'strapping' men?" Jean remarked to me.

"Yes well, I guess the 'strapping' gene skipped me," I leapt up onto Lainathiel's back. I had to hold in a smile at his bewildered face. _Score one for the me team._

"Teach you any humility?" I heard Ben ask Gabriel.

"He tried. It didn't take."

"He also taught you every deer path and swamp trail between here and Charles Town which is why I asked for your transfer. We'll put the word out. Start on the south side of the Santee—"

"We'll cover more ground if we split up," Gabriel interjected. Ben sized Gabriel up.

"Very well, Corporal. You and Steph—ah, Stephan, take Harrisville, Pembroke, Wakefield. I'll start on the north side of the Santee and we'll meet back at the old Spanish mission in Black Swamp."

"Yes, sir. Stephan?" Gabriel called after me as he rode on ahead. I guided my horse next to Ben's.

"Stephan?!" I whispered angrily. Ben winked and turned his horse around, intending to head in the opposite direction. I rolled my eyes and spurred Lainathiel into a gallop after Gabriel. _Blah to them all!_

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**Please don't reduce me for begging for reviews!**


	11. Chapter 11: The Militia

**Hey everyone. Well, my midterms are done (passed them all!) so in celebration, I'm posting this chapter early. Enjoy!**

_Oh, and in answer to my reviewer, Isabella, yes, the Aragorn I mentioned was Aragorn was from Lord of the Rings. The battle at Helm's Deep, to me, was kind of like the Revolutionary War in the sense that a small number of farmers went up against this massive army and triumphed when all hope seemed to be lost. So yea, there ya go. _

**_Also a HUGE thank you to all my faithful reviewers! Keep 'em coming!_**

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Chapter 10: The Militia **

The moment we were out of sight of the camp, Gabriel slowed down to a walk, which allowed me to catch up to him. We walked in silence for a moment, just trying to absorb the speed in which everything was happening. After a few minutes Gabriel asked, "What's it like?"

I looked at him confused. "What's what like?"

"The future. The 21st century. How much does the world change? Do we even win this war?"

"Oh um . . ." I focused on the beautiful scenery, trying to arrange my thoughts. "Well, in some places, life isn't so different than this," I gestured to the farms. "People are just trying to live their lives in peace and that's what they have. But in the cities, oh, they're almost indescribable." My eyes took on a far away look as I thought about home for the first time in months. "There are buildings, taller than anything you could ever imagine. 50, 80, 100 stories tall. They seem to touch the sky, which is why they're named 'skyscrapers.' There are people everywhere. In 2006, I think the last recorded world population was something like 6 billion." I noticed Gabriel's eye pop out of his head. "Oh yea, there's a lot of people."

"What are the people like?" So all through our trip, I tried to explain the world I was born into for Gabriel; the world that he was fighting for. At one point I took my ipod out of my bag and showed him the different kinds of music that existed and the different technologies we had. I, of course, left out many important facts. Like his life being a movie, of an actor existing that looked, acted, and _was _him, and some important history. I had read different versions of time travel stories and knew the serious impact information would have if flaunted about. But other than that, I just explained my life to Gabriel. I tried to describe high school, but he wouldn't believe that something could be that torturous. Oh if only.

It took two days to get to all of the towns that Benjamin requested. Our last stop was at Pembroke. (And just so ya'll know, sleeping outside, with no tent or anything like that, really sucks.)

Gabriel was still asking me questions about home again and shortly into my narration of what a camera was, we galloped over a hill and Pembroke came into sight. It was definitely a random little town in the middle of a meadow. Just before we entered the town, we noticed a dead tree supporting three hanging bodies, while crows scattered from its branches. Gabriel and I pulled up short, staring at them in horrid fascination.

I pulled my eyes away from the looks frozen on the dead men's faces to the church situated at the end of the road. I couldn't help it as I gasped staring at it. I didn't see the church though, for the first time in a long time, the image was replaced by a scene in the movie. There was no church, only a great ball of fire, reaching its red like claws to the sky. I could even hear the screams of the people when, in actuality, they were singing for Sunday Service.

"What is it, Steph?" Gabriel asked concerned. I had finally convinced him to just use my nickname. My full name had way too many syllables.

"Nothing, nothing I'm fine," I tried to convince him. I don't think it took, but he let the subject drop. We continued forward to the church, stopping only to tie the horses, then proceeded up the steps and into the building, disrupting the service.

I hung back by the door while Gabriel walked ahead to speak to the Reverend. Many people were sending Gabriel dirty looks as they sat down after their songs. "Reverend, with your permission, I'd like to make an announcement."

"Young man, this is a house of God."

"I understand that, reverend. I apologize." _Yea, but you don't sound that sorry_, I thought as I leaned against the door frame. Gabriel looked around at the masses gathered. "The South Carolina Militia is being called up. I'm here to enlist every man willing."

The Reverend had made his way down the steps from his pedestal to stand before us. "Son, we are here to pray for the souls of those men hanging outside."

"Yes, pray for them. But honor them by taking up arms with us. "_Oh boy, here we go._

The man I recognized as the one to give away the 'lair' as I later called it stood up. "And bring more suffering to this town?"

"If King George can hang those men, our friends, he can hang anyone of us," another man spoke up. And then Anne added her piece. I smiled slightly as she began.

"Dan Scott, barely a week ago I heard you rail for two hours about independence. Mr. Hardwick, how many times have I heard you speak of freedom at my father's table?" You get 'em girl! "Half the men in this church, including you Father, and you, reverend, are as ardent patriots as I." And she stuns them to silence. "Will you now, when you are needed the most, stop only at words? Is that the sort of men you are?" I started chuckling in the back, which led to several dirty looks cast in my direction. "I ask only that you act upon the beliefs of which you have so strongly spoken and in which you so strongly believe." I saw Anne catch Gabriel's eyes and knew a silent message was passing between them.

Walking forward at the end of the speech, I turned and stared down at the men. Lowering my voice in pitch slightly I asked, "So. Who's with us?"

First one man stood up. And then another, and then another, until at least twelve men were standing all together, pledging to fight for us. I shifted my eyes up to Gabriel's face and saw that look in his eye as he stared at Anne.

* * *

Hours later, the men were all packed up and saying their farewells to their family and friends. They were hugging their children, kissing their wives, and all around being very gushy. Gabriel and I had been standing off to the side when I notice him staring at Anne. Rolling my eyes, I grabbed his shoulders and forced him to look at me. 

"Why don't you go and see if there's a way to talk to her during these coming months, hmm?" He looked shocked, as if how could I possibly know that he had a crush on Anne. But I saw indecision in his eyes. Frowning slightly I asked, "What's wrong?"

"I don't know. The truth of the matter is, I think about her just as much as . . . I think about you." My heart throbbed painfully against my rib cage, but I knew this had to stop. I could not alter fate, no matter how much I cursed it.

"Well then, I guess your gonna have to stop thinkin' about me, and focus more on that beautiful girl over there, "I pointed towards Anne. "Look, you've become like a brother to me. You and she are meant to be together and besides, for all I know, you could be my great-great-great-ect. grandfather or something." He smiled at that.

"That would be strange."

I laughed, "You have no idea. Now go ask her Dad for her number, I-ah, mean how ever it is ya'll talk to each other."

He smiled and nodded his head and made his way over to the Howard family. My heart hurt a little at having to push Gabriel away, but it just wasn't feasible. I was messing with the story enough and getting in the way of their love was not fair. Their love would add light when this war turned really dark. Gabriel came, as I saw it, hopping back to me, a stupid grin plastered to his face.

"I take it that went well?" He just leaped onto his horse, looking around at the men.

I shook my head and followed suit. I was about ready to call for us to get moving when I heard Mr. Howard ask baffled, "Reverend?" And turned to see the Reverend heading toward us with his musket. He paused for a minute, then spun to address his congregation, ripping his wig from his head.

"A Sheppard must tend his flock. And, at times, fight off the wolves." I "heehawed" at his statement, and again I got the weird-not-happy looks, but I loved that line. Spurring our horses forward, Gabriel, me and the rest of our little gang took off in the direction of Black Swamp.

* * *

After a while, we found ourselves plodding our way through the murky waters of the Black Swamp. The sun was just beginning to set, turning the bare trees into dark skeletons. The horses were making a soft splish splash noise as we approached an island where a man was holding a lantern up. We quickly rushed up the slope, the horses plodding their way down the makeshift road in the middle of the camp. Many men were already gathered, camped out among fires and vessels of stew. Some of the men were without shirts and were bathing themselves while others were speaking with their neighbors. I could tell that they were not impressed by the men Gabriel and I brought in. 

As we dismounted, some of the men came up, mostly to mock me and other boy, who was easily the youngest one there. Even though I was the same age as Gabriel, by men's standards, I didn't look older then 16.

I hurriedly ran to catch up with Gabriel, who was heading over to Ben. We had to pass three not-so-honorable looking goonies, who stared at me like I was . . . I don't even know what I was to them.

Ben was sitting around a campfire behind an old ruined wall. Out of a leather satchel he was extracting the pewter soldiers that Thomas had so painstakingly painted, and was melting them down to musket balls.

Gabriel had stopped and was starring at what Ben was doing, his brows drawn over his eyes. He looked over to me. I just shrugged and went to sit down. Ben looked up at Gabriel and asked, "How many did you get?"

"Twelve."

Ben nodded. "Good."

Looking back behind him Gabriel whispered, "These men, they're not the sort we need." One of the men Benjamin recruited walked in at that moment and sat down.

"They're exactly the sort we need," Ben answered. "They fought his kind of war before."

Gabriel was frustrated, I could see it in the way he clenched his jaw. He turned around and walked back into the main area of the camp before he would say anything he would later regret. The man, John Billings, glanced over at Ben.

"What about me? Am I one of that sort?"

"Hell, no. You're the sort that gives that sort a bad name." I chuckled as John laughed; taking a swig from the bottle he was carrying. He stood up, apparently pleased and walked out, but not before giving me a bewildered look. I lowered my eyes as he passed by, diverting my attention to anything but him. Ben seemed to have noticed the tension from me.

"You shouldn't have to worry about him. He's a good man and a devil of a fighter."

I pulled my eyes from the ground, turning them to the stars. "It's not him I'm worried about."

"Oh? Well then what is?"

I scowled at him as I brought my attention back to earth. "What makes you so sure there's anything I'm worried about?"

"Because I know you, and I can tell you are upset about something. Now, what is it?"

"Look, I don't know, alright?!" I snapped, quickly standing up and walked to the edge of the island. I starred at the water, with my hands in the breeches Gabriel had lent me. I could sense more than see Ben get up and draw near up behind me. "It's just . . ." I again looked to the stars, the only thing that was the same in both centuries. "I miss home. I've never thought about it as strongly as I have these couple days. I miss my mom, my dad, even my brothers. I miss going to the mall or the movies; not having to worry about Redcoats and this war." I sighed. "I guess also having to hide who I am." I turned to face him. "I've never had to do that before. It's just hard." I shrugged.

"You know you didn't have to come."

"Yea, I know, but I want to be here. I want to fight; I can feel it coursing though my veins. I don't know. My mind's all jumbled." I brought my hand to my forehead, pushing my bangs out of my eyes. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't doubt or be this emotional."

"After everything that's happened, I would think you were inhuman if you didn't have all these emotions right now. But when we go on raids, I need to know that you're going to be there; all there. That you won't slow us down, or hinder us in anyway. I am your commanding officer right now, and if you do anything, I'll . . ."

"I get it." I held my hands up in surrender. "Don't worry. This how I operate. Explode emotions now, ready for later. I just needed someone to talk to."

He smiled as he cupped my cheek. "And I'll always be here if you need me. Now go and make some friends with the men."

I looked behind Ben as I heard ruckus laughter and belching and some other not too pleasant sounds. "You're kidding me right?"

He looked confused. "'Kidding?'"

"Never mind."

I stumbled out of the little oasis and into hell. The men were all laughing and drinking, some were dancing around campfires while others were cleaning their muskets. Each and every one of them turned their sordid gaze onto me as I passed by; heading to my horse to retrieve my bag and the camping stuff Ben had given me. I tried to keep my gaze sorely on my horse and my head held high, but some of the men stood up while others stepped in front of me, blocking my way, their arms crossed over their enormous chests.

I flicked my eyes up to the faces of these men. "Excuse me. I need to get to my horse." They just laughed; elbowing each other like this was some big joke. I knew guys like this in high school, and the very memory of the torture I received from them escalated my temper rather quickly. "Are you deaf? I said 'excuse me,' or do you need me to use smaller words for your dimwitted brain?" The music that had been playing stopped abruptly.

The man who I was standing toe-to-toe with didn't lose his smiled has the others had, but his eyes took on a deadly gleam. "Well boys, it seems this young lad may have some fire in 'im, but ya don't belong here, boy. Ya'll probably get yerself killed first raid we do."

"Oh? So I take it you're just looking out of my well being?" I asked him a slickly innocent tone as my vision glazed red.

"Tha's right." He looked between his goony friends, acting very pleased with himself. Smiling, I brought my knee hard up between his legs, and then pushed him aside as he doubled over.

"Thanks, but I can look after myself," I yelled back over my shoulder as I brushed past him.

"Why you little—"

"What's going on here?" Ben's voice carried over the din. Everyone turned to regard him, except for the guy who was holding himself as he kneeled on the dirt. I continued on to my horse, ignoring Ben as he strolled over to the little knot that had formed. "I asked what's going on here, gentlemen." The guy on the ground pointed over to me. "Stephan, care to explain?"

I turned back around and faced him. "No, sir. Just getting to know the men, like you said."

He looked down at the man on the ground, who looked as if he was close to tears. "Come with me, now."

"But, sir, I—"

"Now." His gaze bored angrily into me.

"Yes, sir," I sighed and followed behind his stiffly. I caught sight of Gabriel out of the corner of my eye. He didn't look happy, but he winked at me as I passed. When we entered into the little sanctuary again, Ben rounded on me.

"What was that about?"

"The guy got in my way, I asked him to move, he insulted me, so I kneed him between the legs. Nothing to get your knickers in a twist about." Yea, that was the wrong thing to say.

"Nothing to . . ." Oooh I made Ben mad. "These men are the men that you'll be fighting along side with. These men are the men that will have your back, but if you go making enemies with them, then you will find yourself very much alone and that could cost you your life." His eyes were brick ice. I stepped back from him. "Now I will not tolerate this behavior in my militia. Either you're here treating these men with respect, or your out and I'll send you back to Charlotte's."

"But he's the one who insulted me; he got in my way—"

"It's not always about you, Stepha, ah, Stephan!"

"I never said it was," I retorted slowly.

Ben brushed a hand down his face and sighed. "What did Rollins say to you?"

"He doubted me being here and said I should go home because I'm gonna get myself killed."

"And they're going to doubt you being here, as they will doubt Gabriel and many of the other young men whose fighting is limited." He lowered his voice. "And they will especially doubt you, if they discover who you are. You can't take everything they say to heart. These men are the toughest they come and they won't think any more of you than they do tonight. The only way to win their respect is in this war. These are hardened veterans, and anyone weaker to them is fair game."

"So you're saying I should sit down and shut up?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"That's exactly what I'm saying. I won't hear of anymore of your fights, you understand?" I nodded.

"Good, dismissed."

I spun around on my heel and stormed out, making my way to Lainathiel. None of the men tried to stop me as I passed, only glowered at me. Whatever, I was in no mood to care at that point. My anger was on high, which meant death to anyone near by. As I got to Lainathiel, I quickly removed the bags, then the saddle, making sure to run my hands along her flank, soothing her along with me. I impatiently brushed away the tears that had escaped down my cheeks. I vowed I would no longer cry and I was going to keep that vow.

Once Lainathiel was comfortable with water and food, I tied her along with the other horses and headed over to a secluded area to set up my camp. It wasn't more than a crude tent with a blanket hung up between me and the camp to give me privacy. I rolled out my bed roll and laid down to try to sleep. I heard Gabriel approach, but when I didn't answer his calls, he left me alone. _Well, this sucks_.

* * *

**Until next time.**


	12. Chapter 12: Ghost Raids

**Chapter 11: The Ghost Raids**

The next morning I woke up bright and early, but in no way did I wake up happy. I had had a fitful night's sleep on the hard, rocky, cold ground and I was sure that every muscle in my body was cramped in some way. Grumbling, I sat up and stretched, pulling the kinks from my back, legs and arms. It helped, but not much.

Quickly and quietly as I could, I changed into some cleaner clothes, making sure to wrap my chest so that the men wouldn't be suspicious, and brushed my chestnut brown hair into a low ponytail, throwing a hat over the top of my head to cover my bangs. I stumbled over to the edge of the water once I was done and washed my face in the murky water. I stared back at my reflection, barely recognizing who I was.

My face was leaner than when I arrived and my lips were pale and chapped. There was very little color in my cheeks except for the dusting of freckles from many days out in the sun. The only thing familiar was my eyes. They were still the large almond shape characteristic of my family and the irises were the same dark amber color. Sighing, I pushed myself off the ground and proceeded over to the main area of camp. Some of the men were just rising while others were already cooking breakfast. The older men, especially those friends with Rollins, glowered at me as I passed, but many of the younger men waved and beckoned me over to join them. They talked amicably with me as we ate bread, cheese and bacon while sitting by the fire. I discovered from their testimonies that Rollins was a bit of a bully, and had done similar things to these younger men as he had to me. However, I was the only one to get physical and they praised me as some kind of hero.

The sun was just over the horizon when Jean Villeneuve camp striding along, ordering us to our horses for our first drill of the day. Groaning inwardly, I retrieved my rifle and hurried over to Lainathiel. I saddled her quickly then mounted and followed after Jean as everyone else did the same. I noticed with some satisfaction that Rollins was having a hard time sitting in the saddle. He kept shifting and repositioning himself, wincing when he moved wrong. When he caught sight of me looking at him, he glared and mouthed something I did not comprehend. I couldn't help myself but smile and dipped my head mockingly, which lead to a string of curses to issue from his mouth.

After about fifteen minutes of riding through the swamp, we angled out onto a large field where many straw dummies and hay targets were set up. Dismounting quickly, I tied Lainathiel up, and then proceeded over to where Jean was standing in his outlandish uniform.

First he taught us how to load and reload musket and then taught us the fine art of aiming. I could hear some of the older men complain, but they wisely kept their tone low so Jean would not hear. Personally, I wouldn't have minded a smack-down, but we can't always get what we want.

Even though I had my rifle, I took Ben's advice and learned to use a musket. He had said that if I ever lost my rifle or revolvers, like I did when we saved Gabriel, I might want to learn to use the weapon that would most likely be close at hand. I agreed reluctantly, seeing the wisdom of his words, but I knew I would primarily use that which was given to me.

I discovered from this particular drill that muskets suck. I was one of the better shooters in the group (I remembered Ben's "aim small, miss small" thing) but I was still only hitting the target fatally once every four or five times. The only thing going for us on the raids to come would be saturation and the art of surprise; otherwise we wouldn't stand a chance.

After about three hours of shooting muskets from every angle and range, we broke for a quick lunch, moving on afterwards to the skill of tracking, hiding and stealth. Because of my small nature, and the fact that I was as skinny as a twig, I excelled at these drills, although my gracelessness gave me away more than once.

By the end of the day, all of us were sore but in high spirits. We knew in open combat we would never stand a chance, but the strategy devised by Benjamin made it impossible for us to not win. I only hoped that it would be enough.

A week into the training from Mr. Stick-Up-His-French-Ass, Ben announced we would be going on our first raid. A nervous sense of anticipation permeated the camp as the time drew nearer to the confrontation. I don't know how Ben discovered it, but he knew that a supply train was going to be heading for Fort Carolina, cutting across our very own wood.

I was anxious about the upcoming raid. I knew I would be facing a whole new challenge in this war; to deliberately kill. Sure I had taken lives before, but I did it for different reasons than I would for the raids. I didn't let my apprehension show, however. The men would tear me apart and just as I was beginning to earn their respect.

I was surprised but many were impressed by the way I shot and the no nonsense attitude I possessed. I guess they concluded I would make it after all. However, Rollins and his gang were a little less then thrilled with me, but after he tried to pull some trick again, John Billings made sure that Rollins would know what was coming for him next time.

The day of the raid dawned cold and cloudy, as if the very heavens knew that blood would be spilt and was already in mourning. I abstained from my usual outfit of men's breeches and other 18th century attire for something more comfortable; my old pair of worn jeans, a black long sleeved shirt that wasn't very tight and my black converse. I looked a little more feminine with this outfit, but since the men thought I was only sixteen, it wouldn't matter very much.

As I headed up to Ben's office area thing, I noticed that many of the men had mournful expressions on their face; mostly the men at or around my age. They didn't relish killing the Redcoats anymore than I did. Of course there were the few who had almost gleeful expressions on their faces. I pitied anyone who got in their way on the battlefield.

I soon reached the archway that led into the separated piece of land and noticed Ben, Gabriel, Villeneuve, and John Billings bent over a map, muttering to each other. Placing my hands behind my back I coughed to get their attention. Their eyes rose quickly to mine.

"Yes, Hawkins?" Ben asked.

"Just checking in to discover when we are leaving, sir." My gaze stayed locked on Ben's.

"In about half an hour from now. I will call to attention when it's time to depart. Ready the men." Although his tone was strict and formal, his eyes were gentle and reassuring. I nodded my head, muttering a diminutive 'yes, sir,' and turned around to convey orders.

Once I spread the word, I turned and hurried over to Lainathiel. She nickered as I stroked her neck and nuzzled my hand. I laughed as she started to sniff around my persons, most likely looking for the apple that I usually gave her. I pushed her head away and started to brush her chestnut coat when I heard footsteps approaching.

"How's the old girl doing?" Ben asked as he also stroked Lainathiel's neck.

I smiled. "Same as always; spoiled to the core and loving every minute of it." She nickered in agreement which led me to chuckle.

Ben took the brush from my hand and turned me to face him. "What about you? How are you doing?"

My smile slowly dropped and I looked away. "I'll be fine. Nothing to worry about."

"Why do I sense that is not correct?" My eyes flashed as I brought them back to his face.

"Look, I'm fine! F-I-N-E. Fine!" I lowered my voice since I was close to shouting. "Stop treating me differently or everyone will notice. Right now I'm a soldier. Nothing more, nothing less. I will do what I need to do." He nodded, seemingly very pleased.

"Good, that's what I want to hear," Ben said as he turned and walked away. I stared after him confused then, shaking my head, I headed over to my tent to retrieve my rifle and ammo. The command was called just as I gathered everything together and we headed out. I steadied my nerves with some deep breaths then hurried to catch up. _Showtime.

* * *

_

We had positioned ourselves in the trees at the end of a meadow about a mile outside camp. The sky had opened up fifteen minutes into the stake out and after 30 seconds of the downpour I was soaked to the bone. I could feel my arms and legs shaking from nervousness and the cold so to steady myself, I started to sing Siulil A Run from Celtic Woman very quietly to myself. It was the only song that I could think of that had calmed me in times past. Music helped me more than anything else in the whole world.

After five minutes a hazy red image entered onto the opposite side of the fields from the woods. As the caravan drew nearer, I could begin to make out the individual men along with the carts and horses. At a signal from Ben we all took aim and prepared to fire when they came into range.

I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths, as I had many time before, and began to count as I let the breath out, opening my eyes at the same time. I could keep my aim stead for eight seconds otherwise I would have to start over again. _One, two, three, four, five_, I opened fire as a sea of smoke clouds issued around me from the muskets of the Militia. Men all along the front line fell as the bullets penetrated their bodies, blood flying out behind them. No one in the Militia knew if their own bullets were fatal or not.

The Redcoats left behind tried to take cover. Unfortunately for them it was a futile attempt for a second string of musket balls was fired soon after the first volley. As the rest of the Redcoats fell, the men cheered as our first raid was won. I cheered for pretense, but inside I could feel part of me die along with those men on the field. But something else, something I couldn't quite name started to grow from that raid; a thirst to spill blood and to feel the power that I had the control to bring death to who ever I chose. And that power became a drug, one that I knew I could never withdraw from.

* * *

**Alright, I know it's a little short, but I was really sick this week and have been swamped with work since semester classes have been changed, but I promise next week will be longer. I also know you guys are craving for Tavington, hell who wouldn't be, but he's coming, I promise. Just give it a little time and he'll be here. I have a few ideas swimming around my head. REVIEW!!!**


	13. Chapter 13: A Plan

**Hear ye, hear ye! Very important announcement in regards to next week's chapter. Don't worry, you will be getting one, but as to the date of it . . . that is still up in the air. I'm leaving to go to Colorado on Tuesday; my Grandfather fell and is having surgery to fix his back, so my mother and I are going to help take care of him. Also, since the college I want to go to is in the same town, I'm going college visitng as well. I'll have my computer with the story on it with me, but my grandparents don't have wireless internet; getting online will be fun. Hopefully I will get the chapter up in time. However, if I cannot, I ask for your patience in dealing with all this. Mucho Gracias.**

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* * *

Chapter 12: A Plan **

The raids continued for weeks after that. Caravans, patrol groups, and scouts were all targets of our reign of blood. We soon started hiding in creek beds, behind trees and under the cotton fields as the white fluffs blew all around us, surprising the British each time we materialized. Whatever we didn't take from the raid, we killed or burned so that the British would regain absolutely nothing.

After every raid, I and another younger boy, David, would hide close to the wreckage as we waited for the British to come and inspect the damage we caused. By no means were we suicidal, Ben merely wanted a report to see how our efforts were coming in hazing the Redcoats. I enjoyed seeing the look of utter confusion and anger that would grace Tavington's face each time he came across our work, for his Dragoons were usually sent out.

Back at camp, we all celebrated like heroes of old. Feasting, drinking and dancing were the entertainment every night. No longer were the younger men and the older men discriminated against; we were all brothers-in-arms. Even Rollins and I made up . . . sort of. We kept our distance from each other, but we were civil, much to Ben's pleasure.

I was soon elevated in the eyes of the men, for I had a thirst for blood that could not be quenched, and each raid merely increased it. I had no mercy, for each time we moved out I saw Thomas's deathly pale face burned into my eyes. I would make the British pay for what they did. I shot with such speed that at times I was able to shoot seven rounds a minute, a feat I was very proud of. The men were impressed by my lack of fear and remorse. Usually, instead of aiming for the heart or head, I took care to aim at the stomach, legs, and lungs so when the men fell under my bullets, they would die a slow and painful death.

Ben was worried about my desire for vengeance and tried to approach me about it, as did Gabriel, but every time I was able to wriggle away from their questions and accusations, brushing my actions off as the 'height of the moment.' Could I really tell them that I blamed myself as much for Thomas's death as I did Tavington? No, I couldn't.

As our raids increased, I began to notice signs posted on town's bulletin boards and sign posts, requesting the capture of "the Ghost." The first time I saw it, I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop from laughing out loud. I quickly pointed the warrant out to the rest of the men who found the concept as humorous as I.

Things changed, however, as time progressed. I was finding it harder and harder hiding my femininity from the men, especially when my 'friend' showed up (luckily I had a never ending supply of feminine needs. Woot!). I was beginning to wonder whether I should just tell the men and get it over with instead of running around, making stupid excuses for my over emotionalness or the fact that I was craving chocolate like there was no tomorrow. _We are brothers-in-arms. I had proven myself to them ten times over, so they should have no problem with it,_ I thought. But I knew I couldn't just come out and say it. I had to come up with an argument that would prove that although I was a woman, I could still fight and use my womanliness to the advantage. I just didn't know how.

The answer came one night when a group of us went to a local tavern in a town close to Black Swamp. I tagged along for fun, not really interested in getting myself 'pissed drunk' as some of the guys planned.

So we entered the bar, as I called it, and took a seat toward the back, facing the door so we could see who came in and who went out. We may have been out for a bit of fun, but we weren't stupid. Although many of the people in the towns we visited were continentals like us, there was still the rogue loyalist who would love to hand a bunch of rebels to the Dragoons.

As soon as we were comfortable, a, ah, rather boisterous tavern wench came up to our table, taking our order for the night. The men all ordered ale and food, laughing rakishly when the wench made a rather crude joke about something or other. I wasn't paying too much attention; I was more focused on the people around us. I didn't trust the lot of them and was scanning the room for anyone who would likely point us out for what we are. Suddenly I felt John Billings slap me on the back, knocking me forward and breaking my concentration.

"What are you lookin' at, Hawkins? Ain't no one gonna give us away in here."

I sent a look his way, more doubt than anger, but grudgingly sat back and tried to relax. The bar wench returned with ale and food, but before she could leave, Robbie MacDowell pulled her onto his lap, brushing her obnoxiously orange hair from her face.

"And where do you think you're going love?" He asked as the men around the table laughed. I rolled my eyes and grabbed a tankard of ale, although not really taking a drink. She giggled repulsively, fluttering her eyelashes seductively and flaunting her already heavy top. Rolling my eyes and groaning I sat back even further, tuning their little love fest out.

However, when I heard Robbie say something along the lines of "Oh yea! I've killed about 100 Redcoats myself. They never saw it comin'. Like shooting fish in a barrel. In fact, we have another raid just like that comin' up . . ." Well first I was going to wring his thick neck for giving us away, when a thought hit me. _The men are comfortable around this girl. They don't think she would rat them out. If I could get a job at a Tavern where the British frequently come in, I could spy for us and the Redcoats would never know!_

Excited, I searched through all possible consequences if I were to be caught, but I could easily play stupid or ignorant, and save myself without endangering the hide out. It was flawless! The only trick would be convincing Ben to go along with it, which wouldn't be so hard if I laid the facts out for him. Another plus side to my plan, I could tell the men who I really was, and I could prove to them that I would still be beneficial in the Militia. Smiling, I gulped down a large sip of ale, coughing slightly as the burning sensation worked its way down my throat and into my stomach.

"What are you smiling at?" Ernest Wellings asked when he saw the stupid grin plastered to my face. "Ya see a girl ya want?"

The men laughed as John Billings cut in, "I don't think he's quite old enough for that. Probably hasn't even reached full size, if ya know what I mean." More gruff laughter followed, but I ignored them. I was planning my argument in my head and prayed that somehow I could get it to work.

* * *

We arrived back at camp much later that night. The moon was shining full; illuminating our way as our horses carefully plodded along the path among the desolate trees of Black Swamp. I was the only one sober enough to find our way back, so I led the men as they tried vainly to get their horses to go in a straight line; at least what they thought was a straight line. We stumbled into camp, creating a lot of noise and waking most of the men that had gone to bed. 

Shaking my head, I dismounted from Lainathiel and unsaddled her, then picketed her with some food and water. Most of the guys who had ridden into town fell into a drunken sleep as soon as they entered their tents, much to the satisfaction of the others. Rubbing a hand down my face to try to ward off sleep, I cautiously approached 'the office', seeing if Ben was still awake. He was. I winced as my foot cracked a twig, causing Ben's head to fly up and regard me with veiled amusement.

Taking a stick, Ben looked back into the fire that he was staring at before and moved the logs around causing many sparks to shoot up towards the sky. "Did you enjoy your time in town?" he asked.

Shrugging, I walked in and sat by him on the log. "It was alright. The men had fun. They're going to have hangovers up the wahzoo tomorrow though."

He chuckled. "I take it they're going to have very large headaches?"

"That's what I just said," I snorted.

"Well, I'm sorry, but I never understand half of what you're saying," he retorted smiling. "It mostly sounds like rubbish, or some foreign language that is very primitive."

I mockingly glared and punched his arm. "Yea, well, you smell funny."

He dropped the stick and rubbed his bicep. "Oh, wonderfully brilliant, I'm quaking from the retort," he chuckled. Again, the temptation to say 'bite me' was struggling to come out, but I bit my cheek before it could.

"Ha, ha, very funny," I uttered in response.

"Well I thought it was so."

Rolling my eyes, I scooted closer to the fire, absorbing the warmth that wrapped around me like a blanket. "You know, there was a reason I came to talk to you," I said staring at the flames.

"Oh?" I glanced away from the dancing wisps to Ben's sapphire eyes. He sat there quietly, patiently waiting for me to continue. Quickly, I reviewed my arguments in my head and mentally prepared myself for whatever response was to come.

"Yea, ah, I kind of want to tell the men who, who I really . . . am." He stared at me for what felt like eternity. His eyes had gone hard and his brows came down low over his eyes. He turned his penetrating look away from mine starring back at the flames. I swallowed and renewing my resolve to continue on. "I have a perfect plan to convince them that a woman has her uses in the militia too, I . . ."

"And what would that be? No, I won't allow it. You have gotten away with far too much, and now you're pushing the limit, Stephanie. Do you have any idea what they'll do to you if you tell them? Do you have any idea of the repercussions that will come from this?" He glared at me and then rose, stomping over to the edge of the island. Sighing, I got up and followed him, making sure to keep my voice low should anyone try to eavesdrop.

"I've thought long and hard about this, Ben. I can't keep lying to them! They are supposed to trust me, as they do you, to keep them alive should something go wrong and—"

"You really don't understand do you?" He interrupted, turning around to face me. "It is not just about trust. Maybe where you come from it's different, but here most men think no more of a woman then that of a helpless creature that should be quiet and delicate, sitting at home waiting for her man to return home. I took a chance and let you come because I know of your history and what you have told me of the future. They won't. This is more about pride than dependability." He stalked over to me, standing toe-to-toe. "What do you assume they will think when they hear that they have been fighting along side a woman who has out shot many of them? A woman who has no remorse in killing with two centuries worth of knowledge over them?"

Frowning, I placed my hands on my hips and spat, "Ok, for one, I'm not going to tell them I'm from 2006; that'll just be shooting myself in the foot. And B, I have a plan to make myself more valuable."

"And how's that?" He answered in the same tone.

"By spying!" I answered like it was obvious gesturing my hands out. "There have been supply trains that have made it to Fort Carolina because we didn't have the right intelligence to attack them. I can get that for us **_AND_** I could potentially set up ambushes for you guys to attack infantry and maybe even Calvary men. That would put a stick right up Cornwallis's ass, it would and no one would know because, like you said, no one would expect a woman to be in the militia."

"And how would you do that?" Ben asked unconvinced. He brushed past me, heading over to build up the fire. "Never mind, whatever idea that's floating in that head of ours, you'd best forget about it because I will not let you jeopardize this militia and yourself. I should probably just send you to Charlotte's."

Of all the responses to my strategy that I had thought of, that was definitely not one of them. Whipping around after him I spat, "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, wouldn't I?" He threw back over his shoulder. "I have half a mind to."

Growling angrily, I marched right up to Ben, my temper reigning control over me. As I open my mouth to start a whole other argument, Ben placed his hand over it, silencing the protest that was about to issue. "This conversation is over. You will not in any way spy for us and risk getting yourself captured or killed and you will certainly not tell anyone about you being a woman. And Stephanie, I'm warning you now, if I hear anything, anything at all about this plan of yours I'll . . ." he let the sentence go, but I knew that he meant what he said. Although I didn't know the punishment he would issue, I knew that it would be bad.

Yanking my head away from his hand, I turned and stormed out, stomping and cursing my way to my tent. Most, if not all of the men were asleep, not knowing of the rage that possessed me. I was tempted to saddle Lainathiel and ride out, but as soon as I entered my tent, wariness took over and I fell down onto my bedroll, falling asleep almost instantly. Yet as I slept, my mind worked furiously to discover a loop-hole in Ben's threat. By morning I had a new plan and a perfect way to execute it; the only trick would be secrecy and help. Smiling, I knew just where to go.

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**Ok, semi-cliffhanger. Do you know who it's going to be . . . ? Leave a review. Let me know. Make me happy!**


	14. Chapter 14: Fiery Sword Inn

**Ok, I'm sooooooooo sorry this is late. There was almost no internet connection anywhere and I really didn't have time when I was in Colorado. I tired, really I did. So anyway, don't kill me and I hope you like it.**

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**Chapter 13: Fiery Sword Inn**

"Pleeease! Aww, c'mon, I really need your help here, Gabriel," I pleaded as I cornered Gabriel along a stream bank about two miles from camp. We had left early that morning to do a quick surveillance; trying to see where British troops were moving and the route the supply trains were going to take. As we took a quick break for lunch, I had explained my idea to Gabriel, who tolerated it very much like his father had.

"No, absolutely not. This scheme of yours would only end in you being hanged for treason or worse!"

"Like I'm not going to be already! I don't think killing British soldiers and officers convinces someone of loyalty," I remarked as I took a swig from my wineskin.

Gabriel shook his head then answered, "That's beside the point. The militia would protect you, _I_ would protect you if anything were to happen. I can't do that if you're in some tavern sitting on a Redcoat's lap! You're above that anyway."

Groaning, I pushed the heel of my hand against my forehead letting it drop after a few seconds. "Ok, for one I can totally take care of myself. Remember what I did to Rollins? And two, this isn't about being above me or whatever. I'll do what I need to do."

"Well, it doesn't matter because I'm not going to let you go." He stood up from the log we were sitting on and walked over to his horse, storing his wineskin and extra food away.

"Like hell you won't," I barked, following him. "By no means can you tell me what I can and cannot do! I was trying to get your help but since that's not happening, I guess I have to go on my own." I turned to go over to my own mare when Gabriel grabbed my arm, his fingers biting into my skin and spun me back around. His face was inches from mine and his eyes went black and hard like granite.

"You will do nothing of the sort, Stephanie. What would happen if you were seized? How would get out of that predicament?"

Spinning my arm around, I released myself from Gabriel's hold. "Who's to say I'm going to get caught? Jeeze, you men think I can't do anything besides shoot a damn gun. Well you're wrong. I'm smart and I can finagle it so that none would be the wiser but me. You forget that I have two hundred years more knowledge than you."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I'll cross that bridge if and when I get to it then. Dammit Gabriel, I'm 21 years old and can look after myself, I just didn't want to go into this alone. But since you're being so pigheaded about it, alone is how I'm going to have to be." And before he could grab my arm a second time, I ran over the Lainathiel and launched myself into her saddle, digging my heels into her side.

I held her back though, not giving her her head because I knew she just wanted to run; kind of like I was doing. Grinding my teeth, I whipped her around and waited for Gabriel to catch up, even though I wanted nothing more than to gallop through the trees and across the meadow.

Taking a few hardy breaths I turned my gaze to Gabriel, fully intent on making him understand. "Look Gabriel, I know you don't want me to do this, but I've gone over it a hundred times in my head. Yea it could be dangerous, but so is what we're doing right now. I have a lot less chance of getting in trouble than you think." When he continued to stare ahead, ignoring me, I kicked Lainathiel forward, blocking Gabriel's path foreword so he had no choice but to look at me. "At least let me try, if only once and see how it goes. If I don't any good information, or if they get cocky/suspicious, I won't ever think of doing it again, but I won't know if it'll work unless you give me a chance!" I pleaded with him and I even resorted to the 'puppy-dog face.' He melted with it, but only slightly. Glancing skyward he ran a hand down his face, very much like Ben does and sighed.

"Very well. We'll try it, but only once! And I swear if anything happens . . ."

"Nothing'll happen. Trust me, I have everything well in hand."

Maneuvering his horse around mine Gabriel started foreword. "That's what I'm afraid of."

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It took another two days before Gabriel and I found the tavern where the British frequently visited. The tavern, called the Fiery Sword Inn, was located in Orangeburg, about eight miles northwest of camp. It was a grubby place at best; cobwebs hung in each corner and the floors were a nice shade of gray from years of stains and dirt. The nails in the wooden walls were rusted so much so I thought I needed a tetanus shot just standing there and the windows were so opaque that no one could see in or out.

Sneering at the dirt and grime, I maneuvered my way through a labyrinth of chairs and tables to the wide bar at the left side of the room. I could hear Gabriel following behind me, cursing the owners and tenants of this place. I almost laughed thinking that the room reminded me of one of the bars I'd seen at Tortuga in _Pirates of the Caribbean_.

Reaching the rectangular wood, I leaned against the bar, looking left and right along it, hoping to catch the bartender or owner. Gabriel came up next to me and stood with his back against the dark wood, watching the people smoke their tobacco and drink their whiskey around us.

A curtain to the right of the bar was brushed aside and a heavyset, bald man came striding out, carrying a small barrel over his shoulder. He caught sight of Gabriel and me quickly, his beady eyes narrowing in suspicion. Setting the barrel down, he hollered for someone named Alice then walked over to us; sizing Gabriel up along the way.

"What can Ah do for ya?" He asked gruffly, rolling up the sleeves of his used-to-be-white shirt.

Adjusting my low cut blouse, I leaned over further, accentuating the rise of my breast above the corset and answered, "I'm lookin' fer work 'round these parts. Perchance ya could hire me? I hear ya get purdy good business and Ah'm in the need fer some money." Baldy straightened up and observed me as I stood there, smiling coyly with a dark brow raised.

"Who's yer friend?" He jerked his chin in Gabriel's direction.

Before Gabriel could say anything I answered quickly, "He's ma brother. Don't worry 'bout 'im. Ain't right n the head, ya see." I pointed to my skull. "My ma dropped 'im on his head when he was a youngin. Ain't been the same since." The bartender grunted, but said no more. When a pretty, raven-haired girl strolled in from the back, Baldy excused himself of a few minutes and hurried over to converse with her.

" 'Ain't right in the head?'" Gabriel growled in my ear.

I giggled and glanced at him. "Hey, that guy was going to ask some potent questions about you, which would make it only harder for me to get a job. Besides, I wasn't far off." Gabriel growled but said nothing as Baldy returned.

"If ya could follow me to the back, Ah need ya ta answer sum questions fer me." Sparing a glance at Gabriel, I followed the man behind the bar and past the maroon curtain. Behind it I found a store room full of bottles of wine and various barrels of ale and whisky. Another curtain led out to what I could only assume was the kitchen.

As soon at the curtain fell back behind Gabriel, Baldy rounded on us, his beady eyes narrowed in suspicion and distain. "Hows 'bout ya tell me what yer really about, hmm?"

Looking at him confusedly I asked, "What are ya talkin' 'bout? All Ah'm wantin' it a job here." Ah, being an actress has its perks.

"Now Ah know that ain't right ya see. He ain't no invalid which makes me wonder why ya lied ta me," Baldy pointed over at Gabriel who was trying to look as menacingly as possible.

Glancing between the two I muttered, "Can Ah ask ya a question, sir?"

"Ah believe ya just did but go ahead," he answered, crossing his sausage like arms over his massive chest.

"Whose side are ya on? Fer this war Ah mean."

At least Baldy had the right to look surprised. Dropping his arms he rubbed the top of his head. "What's that got ta do with anything?"

"Jus' answer the question."

"Hell, Ah'm fer the rebels. Ah don't like havin' them British here anymore than the next man. If Ah didn't need ta pervide fer my wife and young daughter, Ah'd be out there fightin' with them militia and that Ghost they go on about. Now, what's this got ta do with me hirin' ya?" I looked over at Gabriel who was still glaring at the man, but nodded at me to continue.

Dropping my accent I looked at the owner. "Look, we're part of the militia, well he is anyway," I jerked my head at Gabriel. "We know that the British frequent your inn and we need a way to spy on them. I volunteered because they would never suspect a woman."

If he was shocked before, it was nothing to the way Baldy was now. "Yer mental, is that it? Ya think that ya can spy on those damned lobsters an' not get caught? Do ya have any idea what would happen ta my tavern if ya did. They would run me outta town, or those Dragoons would show up and burn it ta the ground."

"Why is it everyone thinks I'm going to get caught?" I grumbled. Raising my voice I looked Baldy straight in the eye. "Look, the militia is not doing enough to aggravate the British like we want to. The same number of supply trains are getting to Fort Carolina to the ones we destroy . . ."

"Why da ya keep sayin' 'we'. Yer not part of the militia," He laughed. "Yer a woman!"

Clenching my teeth I brushed aside his sexist comment. "I meant 'we' in a figurative form. Please, have the British done anything to your . . .um . . . establishment?"

The man stopped and rubbed his chin, thinking. I think I remember smelling something burning at that point. "Yea they have actually. They come in here 'bout ev'ry Friday and Saturday and start fights with many of my tenants and have broken more than enough tables. O' course I can't do anything 'bout it. The only reason I don't stop 'em from comin' in is the fact that they pay me pretty good money."

Pushing my advantage I responded, "So . . . wouldn't you like to get back at them? If you allowed me to work here, I could get information that would help the militia, which would be very unfortunate for the British. Consider it that you're fighting a different battle with them; one that would take their knees without them every knowing."

Baldy stopped to consider. "Well, it would be good ta get back at 'em bastards. Tell ya what. Ya can do it, but Ah won't be payin' ya and if ya get caught, ya had better make sure ma name doesn't come up."

Smiling with victory I answered, "No sir, you had nothing to do with this at all. Merely a harmless, innocent bystander, savvy?" I held my hand out and after another few seconds of consideration, he grabbed and shook it.

"Fine, we got ourselves a deal. Now, what are yer names?"

Pulling my hand away and subconsciously wiping it on my red skirt I pointed to Gabriel then me. "That's James and I'm Andrea, Andy for short."

Nodding Baldy answered, "I'm Robert. When will ya be startin'?"

Smiling I replied, "This Friday. I'll be back at sundown."

"Fine. But don't ya be late. Ah may not be payin' ya, but that doesn't mean ya can slouch around." He brushed pasted us and head back into the main area.

"No sir, I'll be here on time. Thank you sir."

Gabriel and I made our way out quickly. As soon as we were out I breathed in a deep gulp of air and let it out slowly, welcoming the sweet oxygen. "Well, that went better than I planned."

Gabriel grunted. "Maybe, but you still have yet to encounter the British. That will be a lot more difficult."

"Don't worry so much, Gabriel," I said as I mounted Lainathiel. "By the time I'm done with them, they'll be putty in my hand."

Gabriel mounted his own horse and both of us started heading toward the clearing where my bag of men's clothing was stored. "You know, that arrogance of yours is going to get you into trouble someday."

"It hasn't yet!" I kicked Lainathiel into a gallop as soon as we were outside the town limits. My plan was in motion and no amount of reason was going to stop me from enjoying it.

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**Ok, there ya go. Again I apologize for being so late. I promise to try to be more regular. Review!!!**


	15. Chapter 15: The Private

**I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, I hope the fun aspect comes out. Let me know!**

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**Chapter 14: The Private**

The days passed by in a blur. One day it was Sunday, then all of a sudden it was Wednesday, and poof! here was Friday. Time traveled so fast that at least I had no time to get anxious about my "performance" as I came to think of it. Gabriel made sure that he would accompany me as we went 'scouting,' something that made me feel a bit more secure. We told Ben we were scouting because Gabriel knew that Ben was not exactly pleased with my whole idea of waiting tables.

As the time drew nearer to leaving on Friday, I made sure to secretly pack my make-up and women's clothing that I stole the one time I went to town on my own. I felt bad, knowing that many people only had one set of clothing, but they had many clothes hanging on the line, so I figured they would be fine . . . hopefully.

We left at a little past three in the afternoon, yelling to Ben as we left that we'd be back by tomorrow. It was not unusual for scouting parties to be gone one or two days so we knew we were safe. Setting off in the opposite direction, Gabriel and I circled around giving the appearance that we were heading toward Charleston instead of Orangeburg. It took about two and half hours of heavy riding before Gabriel and I reached the outskirts of town. Ducking into the same little clearing I had before, I changed into the colonial costume and applied my make-up in a whoreish fashion. I didn't over do it, but I added a little more brown eye shadow and black eyeliner than I normally would, giving myself that "sultry" look. I also pinned up my auburn hair, letting soft ringlets fall around my face, framing it fashionably.

When I came out from behind the bushes to where Gabriel was standing with the horses, I saw his eyes pop open and his mouth dropped as he let go of the reigns.

"Ste-Steph-Stephanie. . . ." he stumbled.

Not being able to resist, I flaunted my way over to him, bending over to take the reigns, giving him a perfect view of my front. Beautiful thing about corsets, they push everything up, so there isn't a whole lot to look down to. As I stood up, I fluttered my eyelashes and smiled, "Like it?"

"I . . . um . . . ah . . . I cannot in good conscience, ah, let you go into that place, looking, looking like . . . that."

I quirked an eyebrow, loving the way I was making Gabriel squirm. If I could make love-sick-drool-all-over-Anne's-letters-Gabriel stumble and fidget, imagine what I could do to those who weren't in any way twidderpatted. "What are you taking about?" I asked him. "I'm actually looking very conservative right now, at least compared to my time. And I'm suppose to make those guys tell me their deepest, darkest, military secrets, am I not?" I added as I threw my leg over the saddle, gripping the reigns.

Gabriel shook his head and followed suit. "I'm going to hell for this, I can feel it."

Laughing, I kicked Lainathiel into a trot and headed down the road towards the Inn just as the sun was setting below the horizon.

I entered the smoky building, looking around at the patrons for anyone of the British military. Apparently they weren't there yet, which caused me to sigh in relief. I wanted a little time to get use to being a waitress before I had to handle them. Gabriel followed me in, but after much persuasion and cajoling, I managed to convince him to let me handle this on my own and to seek out whatever else he liked.

Just as the door shut behind him, Robert the Bartender came striding out of the back kitchen, carrying a barrel very much like before. "Andy!" He called when he saw me. I hurried over to him to which he pushed me behind the curtain where the same raven-haired girl was standing.

"Um . . . hi." I said confusedly as I skidded to a stop. She giggled and covered her mouth with a perfect white hand. She was beautiful, very much like a china-doll.

"Hi, I'm Alice. You must be Andrea, my father said you would start work today," she answered in a light voice. _What! She came from that!_ I thought as I looked between Alice and Robert.

"Yea, er, yes, yes I am. It's nice to meet you Alice." I stuttered. She just giggled some more, then grabbed my wrist, pulling me towards the kitchen area. She couldn't have been more than fifteen!

Alice showed me the ins and outs of being a Tavern wench and it's a lot harder than I thought. Not only were we suppose to serve the customers, but we also had to clean much of the kitchen at night, clean the bar area, and cook some of the food if one of the cooks was absent.

Blowing a dark bang from my out of my eyes, I grabbed an apron and set to work in the bar. Alice brought me around to the daily customers, many of whom were very scruffy and were your average town drunks, so that they may meet the "new girl" and just when I thought I got away from that name, too.

For about two hours I worked, slaving away getting drinks and food and being more social than I've been for any part of my life. Neither was I used to having to smile and be sweet and caring and nice to everyone. Ok, maybe that makes me sound like a bitch, but I'm more accustomed to being on my own for long periods of time. I thanked God every second I was in there that he had me born into a theater family.

As I was bussing a table for two men who just left, the heavy wooden door swung open, admitting several beefy redcoats, adorned in their usual vibrancy and arrogance. Clenching my teeth and putting on what I hoped was a charming smile, but was in actuality a grimace, I swished my way over to them, moving my hips in a semi-Shakira way.

"How can I help you, gentlemen?" I asked as I held a tray topped with empty tankards.

Some of the men's eyes came alight when they saw me and they shuffled back and forth checking me out. It took all of my self-control to not shudder and/or kick them between the legs.

"Well, miss," the largest and what appeared to be the head officer drawled. "Could you get me and my men here some nice tankards of ale and the special for today?"

"Certainly," I answered sweetly. Turning away and heading to the back I added softly, "And I hope you choke."

By the time I came back, burdened down with food and beer, I noticed that they had taken to sitting in the back corner tables. _Of course, they sit the furthest back so I have to climb over everything to get there._ Plastering on a smile, I delivered their order and cast about, looking for the weakest link that I could squeeze information from.

I noticed that off to the side was sitting a solemn-looking redcoat, no older than nineteen or twenty. He was not exactly on the pretty side of things, nor was he well endowed; he was very scrawny and just kind of goofy looking.

He sat there, starring at his mug of ale as if all the answers to the world were found in its depths. Smirking, I swayed my way over to him.

"You seem a bit down there, soldier. Anything I can help you with?" I asked as I slid into the bench next to him. He took one look at me and his pale eyes grew wide.

"I-ah-I'm fi-ine, Miss," he stammered. Noticing his discomfort I smiled softly, hoping to ease it in some way.

"It's alright; I'm not going to bite." _Hard._ "Now why don't you tell Andy here what's bothering you?" I continued softly, brushing my hand over his thin, blond hair.

He visibly swallowed and said, "It's really no-nothing. I have just been having a hard time here in America, especially serving under Colonel Tavington." He snapped his mouth shut, horrified.

Smiling I said, "Don't worry, I won't say anything. From what I hear 'o the Colonel, he's a hard man to fight under. But what he's been doing is amazing. I'm not at all pleased with the way my fellow neighbors have been acting." Lowering my voice, I leaned in a whispered seductively in his ear. "What that Ghost has been doing is just awful. I wish there was a way I could stop him. But what do I know? I'm only a serving girl." I leaned back and looked around wistfully, giving the appearance that I was dreaming.

"Well, you need not worry, Miss," the private said, gaining confidence by patting my leg. I ground my teeth together as he continued, "Colonel Tavington has been scouring all of eastern South Carolina, looking for that bloody Ghost. I beg your pardon for my language, Miss."

Waving my hand dismissingly and continued on, "No need to fret, sir. I hear, nonetheless, that none of your supply trains have made it to Lord General Cornwallis at Fort Carolina and that now, none will be coming anymore because of the Ghost!" I widened my eyes in mock surprise.

The dragoon private smiled, "Of course that isn't true! The Ghost has only hit a third of our trains. Many have gone in secret at night and he has only struck the most obvious. In fact, that's how we're going to catch him. And Monday, a large supply train is leaving from Charles Town in route to the Fort. Only those who are in close confidence know about it." He tapped the side of his nose and winked. I smiled and laughed coyly, making him puff out his chest in confidence.

Smiling, I told him he must be so important to know that, but I had to go back to work and left him, heading for the whiskey room. Once behind the curtain, I jumped for joy and celebrated very quietly. I got the information. My plan worked, not that I didn't think it would, and I haven't gotten caught. _My God I'm smart!_

The dragoon private left about an hour after I finished talking to him while the rest of the little British Gang hung around a few more hours, leaving at around midnight. Robert was very pleased that these men were as well behaved as any would be in a bar. After cleaning up, I told Robert I was heading off and left the tavern at around one-thirty in the morning. I was exhausted and my feet and back hurt.

I walked along the side of the Tavern to the back where Lainathiel was tethered. Flickering lights from the nearby windows formed shadows that danced and writhed along the wooden planks of the walls. Pulling the worn cloak closer to my body, I continued onward until I heard something crunch behind me. I spun around and saw a shadow heading up the alley straight at me. The moon was obscured by clouds, making the shadows lengthen and darken, encasing the man in more darkness. Fear froze me in my tracks until the rational part of my brain screamed to run. Turning, I fled toward Lainathiel, who was pawing the ground with her sharp hooves and squirming back and forth. I fumbled trying to untie the reigns, giving more time for my pursuer to approach closer. Just as I remembered that I had a revolver tucked away in my bag, the person entered into the moonlight and I saw Gabriel standing there, looking a bit perplexed at my frightened state?

"Steph? Why are you so scared? Did something happen? Are you hurt?" he rushed over to me. Clenching my teeth at my own overactive imagination, I punched Gabriel really hard in the arm, causing him to admit a grunt of protest. "Ow! What was that for?!"

"For scaring the livin' daylights outta me, that's why! Jeeze man, announce yourself or something so I don't think your Jack the Ripper out to get me!" I barked, placing my hands on my hips.

"Who's Jack the Ripper?" Gabriel asked while massaging his arm.

Throwing my hands up I said, "Never mind, let's blow this Popsicle stand," then swung myself up onto Lainathiel. Gabriel shook his head, still massaging his arm and followed up behind me.

"Where's your horse?" I asked as he positioned himself behind me.

"I left her in the clearing and walked back. I needed the exercise."

Snorting I said, "Yea ya do," and kicked Lainathiel forward.

Rolling his eyes, Gabriel asked if I had found anything out from the Redcoats he saw leave a little while ago. I explained to him about the private and how I got him to confess some really important information about various caravans.

"Well, that explains a bit about why we usually found fresh tracks in the morning," Gabriel said after a time. "I think we should go after this 'secret' caravan." I nodded in agreement and thought about how to present this information to Ben. We entered the clearing and dismounted; I took off my make-up, changed back into my pants and curled up on my bedroll for sleep. Unfortunately, slumber eluded me for some time. I kept replaying my conversation with the soldier over and over in my head. If I learned what I think I did, we may become more than just a pain in the ass for Cornwallis, but for some reason, that brought me no comfort.

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**Two Chapters to go. No not till the end, but something important shows up. Review!**


	16. Chapter 16: Introduction to MJ

**Ok, I'm trying something a little different from now on. I saw this on another story and I really liked the idea, so here I'm going to do it too. At the beginngings of each chapter there will be a chapter quote that is found somewhere in it's depths. I hope you guys like the idea.**

**Chapter quote:** "Yea, definitely something that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside."

**Also, I know this is early, but I just couldn't wait til Saturday**

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**Chapter 15: Introduction to Michael Jackson**

Gabriel and I arrived back at camp at about midday Saturday. I had already told Robert the night before that I wouldn't be back till next week, so Gabriel and I were all set to leave. Dismounting quickly, we left our horses with some of the men; groomers whose job it was to look after the horses of the militia. We made our way up the path to Ben, smiling and greeting some of the militia that were lounging about. Ben was slouched over a map, intently concentrating on an area around Aunt Charlotte's house when we walked in. A camp fire was crackling behind him and papers littered the ground. Clearing my throat, I brought Ben's attention up to Gabriel and me. He stood up and dropped the measuring instrument he had been using then walked over to the fire.

"Have a good trip?" he asked, massaging his neck and gesturing for us to take a seat by the fire.

"I suppose you could say that," I answered, a smile gracing my lips as I sat on the knotted log.

Ben quirked an eyebrow at my statement. "Oh? Explain."

Again I smiled and spoke of the 'secret caravan' that would be launched Monday from Charleston and of the supply trains that were moving at night. As I spoke, Gabriel added a bit of the things he found out around town. Ben nodded periodically, taking in the information.

"Did you discover what is in this supposed 'secret train'?" Ben asked after a time.

I shook my head. "No, the source I got the information from had to leave before he could give me any great detail about it." OK, he really didn't know any real details about it and I had to seduce before he did say anything. Meh, details are of little importance.

"Just who is your source anyway?"

"I'm not really sure, to tell the truth. He never gave his name." Ok, not lying there.

Ben frowned, poking the fire to flare it up as he cooked the midday meal. "Well that's not very encouraging. Are you sure he was giving you accurate information?"

"Very sure," I replied. "Ben, if we hit this caravan, we could really hit Cornwallis hard, really hard."

"How do you know? This source of yours didn't know what's in this caravan and neither do you."

"Father, I think we should just try it. Why would a supply train be kept secret if it didn't have something of value in it?" Gabriel voiced. I gave a quick smile of gratitude.

"Think, Ben. What's there to lose?" I edged on.

"Besides valuable ammunition, time, and man power, not much," Ben responded sarcastically.

Rolling my eyes I stood up and marched over to the map of South Carolina. Ben and Gabriel followed me over with perplexed looks on their faces. I pointed to a position about a mile from where Black Swamp was located. "Look here. It's a perfect spot." Ben and Gabriel slouched over the map to gain a better view. "The supply train will have to pass through these woods if they are to make it to Fort Carolina in any decent time. The woods are well known to us; it's close by so we won't be losing too much time and the ammunition won't be a problem because Mr. Howard said that some new supplies are due in any day."

Ben pulled his eyes to mine, amusement and admiration in them. "Well you seemed to have everything figured out." I grinned beaming. "Alright, I'll talk to some of the men and get their take on it. Then we'll see."

* * *

After Ben talked with them, the men were all for my plan. Early Monday, we set out and positioned ourselves in the swampy part of the woods, waiting for the British to show up. A scout had been sent to report when the caravan entered the woods. Just after midday, the coo of a dove was heard, the signal to alert us that the British were fast approaching. Cocking the hammer of my gun, I pressed my back against the old tree I was hiding behind, my boots soaked as I stood in calf-deep, murky water. As a few of the men passed along the road, I twisted my body around and aimed my gun at a soldier that was walking closest to me. Taking aim, I inhaled a deep breath then exhaled, waiting for the first shot to be fire. 

One shot went off, then another and I unloaded my gun; missing the soldier I was aiming at. Even modern day guns and ammunition was not always accurate. Cursing, I quickly reloaded then took aim again as the British scrambled for cover. This time when I shot, I didn't miss.

The man was thrown back by the force of the bullet impaling his body, his blood running onto his perfectly white vest. I grinned as I fired two more rounds subsequently, feeling the same invulnerability and power come over me each time I saw red blood begin to spout.

After a few moments, some soldiers took off at a run toward the little bridge that spanned the small creak. However, they weren't expecting Gabriel and several other men to materialize on the bridge, blocking their way and then firing on them with no thought on the matter.

As the last man fell, the men stormed over the bridge and started running toward the other soldiers that were falling under our volley. With a quick shout and a wave of my arm, I flipped my gun onto my back, unsheathed my revolvers, and started shooting as I sloshed my way through the water toward the road. The men under my command followed behind me at the queue, also firing away.

Quickly we were in hand-to-hand combat. I had holstered my revolvers as we neared them and took out a long dagger that Gabriel had given to me a while ago, using much of Ben's techniques of hacking and slicing. If there was a Redcoat in my way, they died. I exhilaration tingled my nerves when I felt cold metal come in contact with flesh and when hot blood ran down my hands and arms. This was raw power.

As the soldiers saw Gabriel and the other men approaching, they tucked tail and ran, heading down a side area that joined with the main road. We had anticipated this move and had positioned men around that stretch of land.

They came out of hiding as the soldiers ran past, firing on them as the men called out surrender. Their pleas went unanswered, for Ben and the older men under his command started hacking away and firing, killing the British who wished to surrender.

When I heard the screams of the dying, I turned my head quickly and watched as another man fell to someone's blade. Quickly I ran over, just as Gabriel came flying up, yelling for his father to stop. I also yelled stop when I saw the massacre that was going on. Ok, hypocritical, I know, but surrender deserves mercy, no matter who the people are.

"These men were about to surrender!" Gabriel yelled. Ben stopped and looked around, seemingly to come out of a trance.

"Perhaps," Villeneuve said. "We will never know." Gun fire was still going off all around us as I observed the scene and it was the first time I ever felt sick about what I've done.

"This is murder!" the Reverend shouted.

John Billings stood from where he was slitting the throat of a man and answered, "Hell, reverend, they're Redcoats. They've earned it." I could feel the blood draining from my head and felt very dizzy, like I was going to faint, but I shook my head and focused on what was going on around me, hoping to push my weakness aside.

Gabriel shook his head. "We're better men than that."

"What do you know about war?" One man argued. I looked up to see Rollins addressing Gabriel. It's amazing what anger can do to a person. I just about leapt at him, cursing him in any matter I could think of but someone held me back. More yelling was added to mine until Ben yelled for quiet from everyone.

"He's right. In the future full quarter will be given to British wounded and all the surrender," Ben ordered.

"British men of war gave no such quarter when they fired on a ship carrying my wife and daughters. I watched, from 200 yards off, as they were burned . . . alive!" Villeneuve snapped.

"You have my sympathy, but my order stands—"

"Damn your sympathy! Who are you to give such an order? I know what you and your men did to my countrymen at Fort Wilderness."

"Jesus Christ man, give it up!" I yelled as Villeneuve got all up in Ben's face. Both men turned sharply to me. "Do you seriously think you're the only one who's lost ones they love because of the British?! I watched my brother get shot in the freaking back by some high and mighty Dragoon for no frickin reason! You lost your family and I lost mine when I came to this godforsaken place, so get over it! And that whole 'Fort Wilderness' thing is totally in the past and there's nothing you can do about it so Hakuna Matata!" I stormed, my hands clenched around the heels of my guns. That's the second time I have shocked a whole bunch of men from my outburst.

Villeneuve glared daggers at me until Ben yelled to all the men, "We're militia. This is not regular army. Every man here is free to come and go as he pleases. But while you're here . . ." He spoke in a soft, you-mess-with-me-you-will-die voice. "You will obey my command or I will have you shot." He then turned and walked away. I sent a death glare at Villeneuve and followed Ben over to one of the wagons where I heard dogs barking.

Two Great Danes, one completely black and the other white and black, stood guard over the wagon, barking madly. John Billings and another man stood behind the wagon trying to gain access to its contents. They had finally resorted to shooting the dogs but Ben ordered their pistols stayed before they could.

The dogs continued to bark incessantly, making me, an avid dog lover, want to shoot them myself. Ben, however, solved the problem by taking a piece of bone and meat that John was gnawing on and throwing it so the dogs would give chase.

Inside the wagon we found British soldier uniforms, the personal letters and journal of Cornwallis and rum. _Why is the rum always gone?_ I thought and snickered.

My thoughts were brought back to earth when I heard something about eating dogs. Ben was nodding his head and looking at the Reverend. "Yea, dog is a fine meal." At that I snorted and started my own little pillaging run in the other wagons.

* * *

That night we all 'partied like a rockstar' after we hauled all the stolen contraband back home from the sight of the attack. Bon-fires were lit, music was blaring, and the rum was being pasted around like a new-born baby at Christmas time. I, of course, reaped in my victory of a perfect raid, patting myself on the back for not listening to Ben and following my own intuition. Life was at a high, the first time in a long while, and I was going to enjoy myself. 

Ben was doing the boring job of taking inventory on the items brought in, with Mars and Jupiter lying at his feet, and Gabriel was off writing another letter to Anne or drooling over an old one. For the first time, I didn't have a babysitter watching my back at every beck-in-turn and I really relished in it. I took my share of rum, ate the feast provided and danced all around, not caring that I probably looked like a fool; I was pretty sloshed so I really didn't care.

After a while, the music became a bit too boring, a bit too . . . similar. Smiling in my drunkenness, I stumbled my way over to my tent, extracted my iPod and battery-powered speakers from the contents of my backpack and set them up, trying to choose the perfect song.

Some of the men became interested in what I was doing and some voiced their questions, but I ignored them; my single intent focused on my playlists. After searching through my lists of dance recital songs, I came to 'Beat It' by Michael Jackson and ginned mischievously.

Turning the volume up, I pulled David over to me, told him what button to push on my queue, and grabbed my cowboy hat, taking up position in front of everyone. By this time I had gained the attention of many, if not most of the men around me. They all stopped and watched, puzzled looks plastered to their faces.

I winked at David and he nodded, pressing down on the little triangle. The sounds of the guitars caught the attention of the rest the men; they glanced around, wondering where the sound was coming from. I turned slowly around, my body poised in a very Michael Jackson way; my leg was bent out and I held the black hat over my face, covering it from everyone.

As soon as the melody started I launched myself into dance. My body twisting and turning in familiar patterns; muscle memory conforming to the positions of the dance from years ago; pivots, turns, arabesques, chassés, padaberes, and pelvic thrusts. I was singing along with the words, walking up to different men and dancing to them. Once the chorus hit I moved into the dance from the music video; the same snapping, arm waving, leg flying dance routine that had all the men laughing and cheering. I think it's engraved in our system to holler when someone can do MJ moves.

When I went into a jeté, my legs out stretched in a split in the air and then a following Calypso turn, their mouths dropped open at my flexibility. Eleven years of dance can do that to a person. Hip-hop mixed with ballet was completely new to these men and they had no idea of how to handle it.

As the song wound down, I collapsed on the dirt ground; heaving air into my lungs as my body began to shake from exertion and too much alcohol.

Gabriel had sat over by the entrance to the office thing, sewing a beaten up American flag he found when we first enlisted three months ago. I have to admit, for a guy he was doing pretty dang good. When he saw me collapse, he hurried over, shoving the men that hung around me away, and then hauled me to my feet. The world started to spin as he did so and a vile taste entered my mouth, making me gag and sputter.

Gabriel threw me over toward the islands edge where I emptied my stomach of the rum and food I had consumed earlier. As soon as I was done removing the toxins from my body I pulled myself up, wiping my mouth with the back of my sleeve. I stood up, my head now mostly clear and wandered over to where Gabriel had gone back to his sewing. I tired not to think about the fool I was for dancing and acting like I did. I'm lucky I didn't start stripping or something even more stupid because then there would be a lot more to talk about.

"Here, a proper musket for you." I looked over and saw Villeneuve give Occam, our resident slave, a new musket taken from the British.

But as Dan Scott walked by him carrying a chest, he shouted to some men behind him, not bothering to lower his voice, "I don't know about you, but I don't like the idea of giving muskets to slaves."

I glared at Dan when Jean turned around and remarked, "Your sense of freedom is as pale as your skin."

"Oooooh, you got burned!" I laughed. I was still a little tipsy.

"And what would you know of it?!" Dan yelled at me. I arched an eyebrow as I scanned him up and down.

"I know that God did not intend for us to _own_ people. We are all the same, so much so that if I cut you and I cut him," I pointed over to Occam. "You would bleed the same blood."

Dan just scoffed and stomped off. _Good riddance!_ Afterward Occam came over and sat by Gabriel and me as I sent death glares at Dan's retreating back.

"Don't listen to them," Gabriel said. "If we win this war, a lot of things will change."

"What will change?" Occam asked in a manner as if he didn't believe Gabriel and the sad part was, Occam was right.

"They call this the New World. It's not. It's the same as the old," Gabriel responded. "But we'll have a chance to build a new world."

"A clean slate," I whispered.

Gabriel nodded. "Yes, a clean slate. It will be world where all men are created equal under God." _As it should be,_ I thought.

"Equal." Occam rolled the word over his tongue. "Sounds good."

I laughed and threw another stick in the fire. Just then Ben came out, holding a worn book.

"I've just been in the mind of a genius." He tossed the book to Billings and picked up a jug of rum. "Lord Cornwallis knows more about warfare then we could hope to learn in a dozen lifetimes." He took a swig.

"Well that's cheerful news," John Billings remarked sarcastically.

"Yea, definitely something that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside," I muttered poking the fire with a stick. Blanks stares were directed my way so I just shook my head uttering, "Never mind."

"His victories at Camden and Charles Town were perfect. Perfect," Ben continued. _Ok not feeling any better here, _I thought. "And he knows it, what's more." He paused for a moment, thinking. "Perhaps that's his weakness."

"Sir?" Gabriel looked very confused.

"Pride."

"Aha!" I said. Again, more blank stares. Alright, no more rum for me.

"Pride's a weakness," Ben moved on, ignoring me.

"Personally I would prefer stupidity," Villeneuve added his two cents into the conversation, sitting down next to Gabriel.

I snorted, "Wouldn't we all?"

"Nah, Pride will do." Ben took another swig from the bottle smiling. He's got a plan. _Great._

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**One more to go! Review!!!**


	17. Chapter 17: Tavington Again

**Ok, here it is!!! The Chapter I have been hinting about, I hope you all are very happy with it.**

**Chapter quote:** 'A jolt of something seared through my body, feeling as if I had been plunged in a run-off river filled with glacier-melted snow.'**

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Chapter 16: Tavington Again**

The next morning I woke up with a headache the size of Texas drumming through my brain at a frightening rate. My mind throbbed against the confinements of my skull as if it had a life its own and desperately wanted freedom. Swearing I would never drink a sip of alcohol again, I stumbled up, rubbing my forehead and extracted two Advil from my bag. Popping them in my mouth, and then swallowing them with water from my wineskin, I got up and wandered up the path to see Ben. I walked into the pieced-off section and saw him sitting by the fire, smoking his pipe as he read one of the correspondents from Cornwallis, afterwards throwing it into the smoldering flames.

He looked up when I kicked one of the many, heavy chests, cursing under my breath as I hopped about. He tried desperately to hold in his laugh, acting as if he were coughing and then forcing, none too successfully, his mouth into its normal firm line.

Gimping over, I flopped down next to him and sent a death glare in his direction. Rubbing my foot I muttered, "Go ahead and laugh," as my toe gave another painful throb and I winced, rubbing it harder.

"Sorry," he burst out laughing. "But only you would hit the biggest chest of the lot."

Rolling my eyes and growling, I continued to rub until the sharp pain was reduced to a dull throb. "Yes, well, I'm a klutz. It's my specialty to make the improbable, probable."

"I can see that. And yet you move with immaculate grace."

I smiled as I continued rubbing. "Yea, I'm a contradiction, a ballerina with no balance."

"By the way, how is your head this morning? With as much as I saw you drink last night, I'm surprised to see you coherent." There was bit of an edge to his voice that put me on guard straight away.

"Well you know, it's a pirate's life for me."

"Be serious, Stephanie. That little stunt you pulled with that dance of yours could easily have exposed you. You're lucky the men were as drunk as you and can't recall it."

"Are you done because I seriously didn't come up here to get yelled at?" I spat. I was already paying for my extravagant night with a pounding headache; I didn't need to be lectured on top of it.

OK, I will warn everyone from every century, never say 'are you done?' to Ben. In a speed faster than light, his faced hardened and his eyes were almost as cold and sharp as Tavington's. The first trace of fear to ever hit me since I first met Ben sped through like lightening.

"I would watch that attitude of yours, Stephanie Hawkins," he gritted out through his teeth. "I don't care that your wish is not to be reproached because that's exactly what you need. I don't know how your century is like, but I know mine and you had better be rid of that tone. Am I understood?" _Now where have I heard THAT before?_

Checking my anger I muttered, "Yes, Sir."

"Good and I'm your restricting your alcohol consumption. The last thing you need is more spirits."

"Way ahead of you. I am never touching anything dealing with 'spirits' again."

That brought a small smile to his lips. "Good then everything's settled."

"Not quite," I said, looking up as the sky changed from purple to blue. Bringing my eyes back down, I glanced over at Ben. "Remember last night when you said we could use Pride against Cornwallis?"

Ben looked hesitantly at me, not sure where I was going with this conversation because, let's face it, I get some pretty metaphorical ideas. "Yes, I recall it. Why do you ask?"

"Cuz I was wondering if you have a plan?" I inquired.

His gaze was skeptical, staring at me like he couldn't believe I would ask him that. "We just had one of the best raids in weeks and you're already thinking of something new? Are you never satisfied?"

"What does that have to do with anything?!" I answered shocked. "Jeeze, I was just curious."

"Ok, ok, relax," he tried to placate, shaking his head. Taking a sigh, he told me of the information found in the letters. "I wasn't able to discern much from Cornwallis's correspondents, but as to 'hitting him' as you usually say, I have nothing so far. The only useful bit of information is the apparent appearance of two ships this Saturday. According to a letter to Cornwallis, it's full of supplies and ammunition for the British."

Gabriel walked in and came over to sit down next to me. "Two ships? Where are they docking?"

"I think at the Middleton Docks on the Ashley River," Ben answered Gabriel. Something about appearance of the ships seemed eerily familiar to me.

"Ben, any chance I could ride over there and check out the area? Maybe I will find something that'll be useful."

"Are you sure you'll feel up to it?"

"Yes, how are you, Steph?" Gabriel asked, his eyes holding more amusement than Ben's.

Rolling my own I muttered, "I'll be fine. I took two Advil, that'll take the headache away in no time."

"Advil?" they both asked.

"Yea, it's a pain reliever." They looked at me in confusion, something they did a lot. I sighed, "Just know that it takes me to my happy place."

Ben sighed dramatically. "Alright, you can go, but Gabriel will go with you," he ordered.

"What?! Aww c'mon! Can't I do this on my own? You never let me do anything on my own." I slumped forward pretending to sulk. Ben gave me one of his 'don't-mess-with-me-looks.'

"What? Do you not like me going with you?" Gabriel asked, faking as if I had wounded him mortally with my words.

"Shut up, that's not true and you know it," I admonished, hitting him lightly on the leg. "But, seriously." I turned my attention back to Ben. "I probably be more unnoticeable if was just me." Truth be told, I wasn't sure if I would get another flashback like I did in Pembroke. If that did happen, I wanted to be alone; less I would have to explain about.

"Is that your argument for everything?" He asked.

"Well it's true."

He sighed. "Fine, go, but be back before nightfall."

Smiling in victory I saluted, shouting, "Aye, aye, Sir!"

* * *

I road hard for the next two hours. The docks where the two ships, the _York_ and the _Bristol_, would be unloaded were right across from Middleton Place, about fourteen miles north of Charles Town. As I followed the meandering river south, I couldn't help to notice how the beautiful scenery was slowly being eaten up by the Armies of Britain and America. The roads were in horrible condition with deep groves cut into the soil. Many plantations were no longer occupied; their fields over run with weeds and old crops were left to rot. Even the houses were deserted and looked like they had been looted if they weren't already burnt to a crisp. Probably have Tavington to thank for that. 

I frowned as I stared at the wreckage around me; the beautiful meshing with the ugly. It was sad to see what had become of the land, but isn't that what we were doing in the future.

I pulled Lainathiel to a stop as I observed an inlet of marshland surround by mighty oak trees that hung Spanish moss from their thick branches. This, all of this, would one day be an industrial field or some kind of housing project. The beauty and tranquility of the land would be forever lost to us, Americans, the most selfish people ever to cross this earth. I remember the statistic that America uses over forty-percent of the world's resources for only six-percent of the population.

I sneered and kicked my mare back into the swift trot she was in before. I tried to block the images I had conjured of home again. Every time I thought about my past life, a sickening dread enters my chest that I will never see my family again. And as much as we have fought over the years, and as much as they got on my nerves, they were still family. Another thought struck me. Maybe the Martin's are now my new family. They took me in without a word. They have sheltered me, fed me, and clothed me . . . kinda. I owe my life to them and I've been treating their hospitality like crap.

Kicking Lainathiel into a run, I sent her flying over the road, her thundering hooves pounding away at the dirt as miles fled under her. I hunched close to her neck, like a jockey would on race day, keeping my back low and urging her faster and faster. We both needed this freedom to run. To feel the wind in our face and the reckless speed that sent both our hearts racing. I needed to ignore the feelings of sadness and loneliness, to lose myself in the wind.

As I rode I couldn't believe I had never really ridden a horse before. The feeling of being one with the animal, of the thrill that one is flying was intoxicating.

The sounds of Lainathiel's hooves were soon not only one's I heard. Gripping the reigns tightly, I turned my head to look back behind me and saw several riders following at the same break-neck pace. My heart leap into my throat when I saw that these riders were members of the Dragoon's; their fur helmets and green vests exposing them in an instant.

I swore, but instead of urging her faster, I pulled Lainathiel to the side of the road and slowed her down. If they wanted to talk to me they would, or they were on some errand and would pass me by. Hopefully it would be the latter.

Under me I could feel the horse's chest heave in and out as my own followed her rhythm, filling our lungs with desperate oxygen.

As the men approached I made sure to cover my hair with my hat as much as possible, since it had flown off during the ride. I also made sure to dirty my face a bit with mud that had sprayed onto my pants.

Within moments the men had me flanked on all sides while one rode ahead to block me from running if I tried. Then another rider pushed his way forward, ending up standing next to me on the right. I lifted the brim of my hat to look into the face of the man and my heart stopped, literally stopped when I met the cold eyes of Colonel William Tavington. A jolt of something seared through my body, feeling as if I had been plunged in a run-off river filled with glacier-melted snow.

Clearing my throat I asked him as bravely as possible, "Is there a problem, Sir?"

Tavington maneuvered his stallion closer to my mare, making her shy off to the side. He sent a withering look up and down my frame, much like he had a few months ago and I only hopped he didn't recognize me.

He sneered at my appearance as he answered, "Depends. Tell me, where were you going at such a breakneck speed? And on a horse that once belonged to the British Army?"

"Huh?" _Oops, didn't mean to think aloud._ Tavington pierced his lips together in anger, and then began to repeat himself as if he were talking to a dolt.

"Yes, yes, I heard what you said," I interrupted, waving my hand in dismissal.

Tavington glared daggers at me, his eyes like shards of ice piercing my very soul. "Then answer the question, boy, or I will arrest you for stealing from His Majesty's soldiers."

My anger came into being and I glared back at him. "Firstly, I was just taking my horse out for a ride and B." He looked almost bored as I continued. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I have had this horse for over a year and she sure as hell wasn't stolen from any British Army." I tried to keep the contempt from my voice, but was having a hard time with my evil adversary so close I could feel the heat radiating from in leg to mine; a feeling that was creating heat in other places as well. _Damn it!_

"Then please," he continued, saying the words carefully as if I were an idiot child. "Explain the brand on your mare's flank."

I turned around and looked back, noticing two capitalized letters spelling _BA_ branded on her skin and hair. Although it was faint, there was no denying that this horse had belonged to the British Army. _Ok, interesting._

"What's your name?" he sneered, something I was realizing he was really good at that.

"Eastwood. Clint Eastwood," I muttered.

I turned my gaze back to Tavington, trying vainly to block all emotions and feelings. "Whether or not this horse belonged to the British Army has little consequence now. She is _my_ horse and if you wanted her so badly, _you_ should have come and collected her yourself. And seeing as you didn't, she's going to remain in my position and I'm going to go on my merry way. Ta, ta!" I kicked her forward, but quick as lightening, Tavington had his pistol out and had it pointed at my head. Strangely, I felt no fear, not a trace at this new development. I just stared at the barrel of the gun with a bemused expression on my face.

"And you're going to do _what_ with that? Shoot me?" Tavington sneered, pulling the hammer back he made it painfully obvious what his intentions were. Still the feeling of invulnerability resided in me. "You're going to shoot me over a horse? That is the most redneck thing I have ever heard!"

For a moment, Tavington was puzzled. "Redneck?"

"Yea, redneck. It means a glorious absence of sophistication."

His eyes sparked again. "Are you meaning to imply that His Majesty's soldiers are unsophisticated ruffians like you colonials?"

I smirked, "Take it as you wish."

Tavington growled and made a move to grab the reigns, but his jerky movement scared Lainathiel and she reared up, her sharp hooves flying in the air. The other horses belonging to Tavington's men shied away from her as her screams pierced the area. Even Tavington himself looked a bit apprehensive at having to approach me again.

Feeling a weird sense of daring, I ripped my hat off my head, allowing my dark tresses to fall down my back in surprising glorious waves, and wheeled the hat over head like a lasso.

Tavington took one look at me and recognition flashed across his face. "You!" He shouted, pointing at me.

Smiling, I yelled, "Me?" mockingly as I gripped Lainathiel hard with my knees to keep from falling back. As soon as a gap was made, I forced her back down and kicked her into a gallop, taking the soldiers by surprise. The wind felt wonderful rushing through my hair as we sped down the strip. I heard Tavington shout orders and soon the men were giving chase, their shouts and the thundering of hooves very prominent behind us.

I push Lainathiel harder when a gun shot was heard behind me and I felt something whoosh by my head, missing me by centimeters. _Ok, he means business._

Knowing that I would never be able to outrun them for long, I pulled Lainathiel off the road, forcing her into the underbrush of the woods the road cut through. Having already explored this forest before, I knew that a trail was only feet from the road, but would be so thin that only those who knew it would not become lost. Left and right we zigzagged around trees and stumps, flying over fallen logs and small creaks. Soon I heard Tavington's angry shouts and the thumping of hooves fall into the distance as the men became turned around. Throwing my voice I yelled back, "This is the day you will always remember as the day you almost caught Captain Stephanie Hawkins!"

For a minute, the horses were coming close again but in a matter of moments there were no more sounds as the trail led them away. Only the gurgling of water and the song of birds was audible to me as I sat in the saddle. I was left alone in the gaining light of morning, feeling exhilarated and free. I, a lowly girl from the future, had insulted, tricked, and out ran Colonel William Tavington of the Green Dragoons; the King's elite Calvary. I sighed; _Life could not GET any better.

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**Ok, I tried really hard to keep Tavington in character as much as possible, but if you have any ideas, or you think I screwed up somewhere, let me know! I want to make this story as real and correct as possible. And on a side note, I was able to get this chapter up, even though last night was opening night for the play I'm in, so much happiness all around! Review!**


	18. Chapter 18: Standing Outside the Fire

**Chapter quote:** "Oh, Miss Turner, I must ask you. This hideous war we're in, whose side are you on?"

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**Chapter 17: Standing Outside the Fire**

Apparently Life could get better. I waited an hour, hiding in the woods before I finally wound my way out and back onto the road, but this time I kept more to the shadows and underbrush. Last thing I needed was to be stopped again.

I ambled my way along the road until I came around the bend and looked across the flowing river to a large plantation situated on the opposite bank. It was Middleton Place, the same mansion were Cornwallis would be attending a ball in his honor this Saturday.

The lawn of the estate sloped upward towards the house in gentle curves, like ripples on the water. The large, brick mansion had two chimneys jutting out of the frame at each end while trees draped with Spanish moss and encircled by blooming flowers surrounding the property. The manicured lawn reached right up to the water, looking as if it delved underneath like duck on a lake.

On the opposite bank, a large area of marshland started in the middle of the river and sloped back towards me, ending in a sea of tan colored reeds against the dirt of the road. Wooden docks were built onto the marsh, racing over it to end in the river. No doubt the ships would be anchored to the wooden posts supporting the planks.

As I examined the area closer, I felt myself slip from reality into a vision again. The area was replaced by the ships docked at the waterfront while behind them the windows of the manor house glowed yellow from lit candles. Ladies walked around in elegant dress, escorted by gentlemen, many of whom wore the red jackets of British Military. Smoke rose form one of the chimneys into the sky as a crescent moon rose above the trees.

As fast as the vision came it left, leaving me feeling exhausted and a little shaken. I stood up, supporting myself using the trunks of the trees then mounted Lainathiel. I turned to head back to camp when a sign nailed to a tree trunk caught my attention. Steering Lainathiel closer, I bent down and read the poster. It was requesting help from performers for the ball! Apparently they wanted something than just normal dancing to an orchestra. I smiled, a plan forming in my head. _This could work.

* * *

_

As I sat in the beautifully furnished sitting room of Middleton Place, I couldn't help smoothing the wrinkles of my blue brocade skirt, feeling very much like a pauper in a house of royalty. The room was decorated with lavish cream colored sofas and settees with dark cherry wood tables placed periodically about. The large bay windows were open, the lace curtains fluttering in the breeze that blew in off the water, cooling the room down. A huge, marble fireplace adorned one wall with a portrait of the Middleton Family hanging above the mantel. It was one of the most gorgeous rooms I had ever seen, and I had been to the mansions at Newport, Rhode Island. They were dwarfed compared to this.

I stood up quickly as the butler brought Mrs. Middleton into the room. She was a handsome woman with blond hair streaked with white pulled back from her face in an elegant twist. Her satin gown was a pale yellow, accentuating her pale skin turned paler by white powder and her brown eyes were lined with kohl. She was probably a beauty in her time, but now wrinkles had appeared around her eyes and the skin was a little droopy. The only off setting thing on her face was the beauty mark placed strategically above the upper corner of her lip. To me it looked as if a bug had buried into her skin, but I tried not to let my revulsion show.

She entered the room and walked over to the sofa opposite of me. I curtsied and she motioned for me to sit as she did.

"Miss Turner, is it?" she asked with a hint of a lilt to her voice.

"Yes, Ma'am. Elizabeth Turner."

"Well what can I do for you, Miss Turner?" She asked.

"Well, Ma'am. I had seen notices asking for entertainers for your ball this Saturday posted around town. I happen to be a ballet dancer and a singer and I am hoping you would have an opening for me." I looked her straight in the eye, although she gave the appearance that that was the _last_ thing she wanted to do.

"You do know I do not give performances for people just off the street. Great Lords and Ladies will be attending from all over South Carolina."

I smiled, trying to be as sweet as possible. "I understand that, Ma'am. I would gladly give you a demonstration, if that is what you require. I would hope my dancing would be of the right quality for such noble guests."

She smiled slightly, making the black mark move up and down. _I really have to stop staring or I'll appear very rude._

"That won't be necessary. How long have you been studying Ballet, Miss Turner?"

"Since I was about six. My mother took me to France to study under Jean Georges Noverre—"

"Not _the_ Jean Georges Noverre?" Mrs. Middleton asked shocked.

I smiled. She was playing right into my hand. "The very same."

"Well, my dear, it seems as if you have high credentials." She got up and took a book with a quill and some ink. "I will mark you in the book. Please be here next Saturday night at six. Do you have any special music for the orchestra?"

"No, Ma'am."

She was back to being suspicious but was still polite. "Oh, Miss Turner, I must ask you. This hideous war we're in, whose side are you on?"

I had started to stand but her question brought me back down to my seat. "Ma'am?"

"I'm merely ask because there will be some dignified British Officers here. If you are a Patriot, I would ask you not to come."

I gave her a retrained smile. "Ma'am, who are we to say what side of this war we are on. Us women do not need to pay attention to such politics, at least I do not. It matters little to me who wins this war. As long as I have a place to dance and people to dance for I'm all set."

She pierced her lips as if she didn't believe a word I was saying, but let it pass. "Then I will see you at six o'clock promptly."

I stood up and curtsied then left, following the butler, who had miraculously appeared, outside to my waiting horse. I mounted side saddle, literally a pain in the butt, and rode on through the rot-iron gates and unto the road. A few feet from the entrance I ducked behind a bush and changed back into my boys clothing. I hope that the person I had filched the dress from wouldn't be too upset.

After changing I rode back to camp as fast as Lainathiel could take me, cutting through a few forests and meadows so I would not run into Tavington again.

I made it back just as the sun was beginning to set behind the trees. I gave the whistle for the scout who hid in the canopy of branches, keeping watch so no one who we didn't want could find us. Hearing the whistle in reply I continued forward through the water and up onto the raised island. Very few men were in attendance, mostly wandering about and left behind to guard camp. _Hmm, must have gone on another raid._

Unsaddling Lainathiel, I spent an hour rubbing her down and brushing her, giving more attention to her than I had in a long while. She, of course, loved all the attention. What I loved most about my horse was her personality was so close to mine, we got along like soul-mates. I never needed to guide her, she knew what to do, like today.

I dropped the brush and plopped down besides the bank, staring at the water. What was wrong with me? I couldn't seem to get Tavington out of my mind. He haunted my dreams every night and even just a glance from him sent chills along my spine. My body was a traitor to me. Thinking about the way heat had built in me when he so near, and a gun pointed at me no less! _He was cruel and ruthless, a savage if I ever saw one and yet . . ._, I sighed. I did not need to be thinking about Colonel Tavington. He killed my foster brother, and one day we would get what was coming to him. Besides, it's not like I'm ever going to see him again.

I twig snapped behind me and I spun around, noticing Ben and the other men come riding back. I stood up, dusting the dirty and leaves from my breeches and wandered up to wait for him and Gabriel when they decided to finally show up. They both walked into Ben's camping area, looking extremely haggard; their clothing was dirty and soaked with sweat and dirt clung to their faces.

"Have a nice ride?" I asked casually, looking at them with amusement.

They both glared at me, picking up rags and whipping their faces clean.

"Where were you?" Ben asked walking by me.

I crossed my arms and turned to look at him. "Um. . . exactly what I told you I would be doing. I went and checked Middleton Place out. Where do you think I was?"

"At Middleton Place itself. Stephanie, what were you doing in there?"

"What . . . I . . . were, were you spying on me?!" I stared at Ben shocked. _No, he wouldn't._

"Not me personally, no. But I did send John Billings who unfortunately now knows who you really are because of that little charade with the dress." I couldn't believe it. Ben sent someone to spy on me!

I stared at him, my anger rising like a volcanic eruption. "I can't believe you!" I shouted out. "You sent someone to _spy_ on me?! What in blue blazes were you thinking?!"

"I think I had your best interest in mind," Ben shouted back. "And it's a good think I did too. If it wasn't for John, you would probably in Tavington's grasp by now or dead for all we know."

"Oh please, no I wouldn't. I out ran that S.O.B! Ben, how could you? I trusted you." I was close to tears I was so upset.

"And I trusted you, but you betrayed that trust. Now tell me what you were doing at Middleton Place?!" He placed his hands on the table, leaning over it as he glared at me.

"I was getting information! That's what." I saw Gabriel in the corner of my eye wince. He knew that this was going to be a hell of a spout. "I was finding out that when the ships are going to be unloaded, right across the way the Middleton's will be having a ball in honor of Cornwallis! But he won't be the only one there. Many of the top officers will be as well." I glared daggers at Ben, who was now looking regretful. "That's what I was doing and as for Tavington, I took care of his ass.

"My God Ben! Am I that much of a problem that I have to have a babysitter all the goddamn time?! Do I need supervision for everything I do?" As much as I tried, one tear fell down my cheek, carving a wet path through the dirt from the road.

Although he was regretful, Ben still had his anger and he stood up straight and tall. "Apparently you do. If I can't even trust you to do this one thing, how can I trust you on anything else? And you need to watch your language."

"Fuck that! You've never trusted me!"

Ben stepped back and spat, "What are you talking about?"

"No matter where I've gone, or what I've done, you or Gabriel had always been there breathing down my neck. You never let me out of your sight! I feel as if I'm a prisoner sometimes." Both Ben and Gabriel were taken aback by that outburst. "The one time I get something good, really good on my own, you're jumping down my throat for not sticking to the plan. Well screw the plan. An opportunity presented itself and I was not going to be a fool and pass it up." My hands had moved from fists clenched at my sides to fist clenched on my hips. "Whatever you may think, I did what I had to for the benefit of the militia and for you. I figured if I could find something out, it would make your life easier. Well sorry for thinking of you." I turned on my heel and stormed out. I notice John Billings looking at me with a sense of controlled anger, but I ignored him. I don't them. I don't need any of them.

* * *

For the next three days I avoided both Gabriel and Ben. I really didn't care about what they had to say and was still pretty volatile in my anger. All the men seemed to have noticed the tension between the three of us and kept mostly to themselves. I think they feared my wrath more than Ben's; anger was radiating off of my like a fire. Of course some were curious and approached me about it; they had heard us shouting and wanted to know what was going on. I brushed them off saying a family disagreement was the only problem. I think they knew that wasn't true, but left the matter alone. 

Saturday dawned clear and cold since we were swiftly approaching winter of 1779. I arose early, earlier than most of the men, and packed the few belongings I would need for tonight. My Pointe shoes, ipod and speakers, and miraculously at the bottom of my bag was my old dance costume when I was Sleeping Beauty for my senior year solo dance. I didn't question that fate was on my side. I also made sure to pack the blue dress and it's under things incase I was invited to stay for the remainder of the ball. You never know what would happen at these shindigs.

I snuck my way over the sleeping Lainathiel, poking her side to wake her up, than began to saddle her quickly and quietly. I wanted to get out before Ben, Gabriel, or anyone else for that matter stopped me. As soon as I pulled the last strap good and tight I heard someone behind me say, "Going somewhere?"

I spun around and saw Ben standing there, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed in front of him. He was dressed in a shirt and vest, but lacked the jacket he usually had on.

"Actually yes, I am." I turned back around, adjusting various things so I wouldn't have to look at him. "I have some business to attend to." I sensed more than saw him push off the tree and walk over to me.

"And what would this business be?"

I turned my back to him. "My own," I answered in a clipped tone. Ben sighed, moving around so he stood in front of me.

"And what is your own business?"

I pulled my eyes from the ground and stared at him straight in the face. "Why don't you have one of the men follow me? I'm sure they would tell you all you need to know."

Ben looked skyward word, muttering something under his breath that sounded like, 'Heaven help me.' "Stephanie," he whispered. "Please, where are you going?"

"I am going," I elaborated, walking behind Lainathiel's flank to the other side. "Back to Middleton Place where I am giving a dance performance for the lords and ladies or whatever you call them."

Ben's eyes widened. "You're what?"

I looked up. "Must I repeat myself?"

"Stephanie, what is going on in that head of yours? Do have any idea how dangerous this is?"

"What's so dangerous about it? All I'm going to be doing is _dancing_, something that I love above all else. So it will be in front of Cornwallis, it's not like he is going to be like 'oh, that girl is part of the Ghost's militia, seize her.' I mean seriously."

"And who else is going to be there? Colonel Tavington? You've already had two run-ins with him. Do you honestly think he won't recognize you?"

I brushed Ben's question off. "Doubtful at best. Look, I've done drama for years, there is nothing I can't do with make-up. _You_ wouldn't even recognize me by the time I'm done and you know me better than practically anyone. I know what I'm doing."

"Do you? You're tempting fate, Stephanie."

I shrugged, swinging into the saddle. "It's not really living if you're standing outside the fire."

* * *

**Gasp Does her arrogance know no bounds? Review!**

**(PS. The guy I mentioned for ballet was a real man. He is considered to be the creator of ****ballet d'action**** a precursor of the ****narrative ballets**** of the 19th century.** **So, mini history lesson!)**


	19. Chapter 19: The Ball

**Today is a SNOW DAY!!! so I'm posting the chapter early.**

**Also, as a side note, from here on out Tavington will be in the picture a lot more! If he isn't directly in the chapter he will be mentioned so I hope it makes all of you happy.**

**Chapter Quote: **'_What is this? I go without seeing the man for months and now I can't go a frickin' hour!'_

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* * *

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**Chapter 18: The Ball**

I rode toward Middleton Place at a leisurely pace, not really needing to hurry. I still had about nine hours before I was scheduled to be there so I had plenty of time to meander about and just observe the land around me. I look my time, keeping Lainathiel at a gentle walk, but keeping to the shadows as I had done before. I also was in my 'women's clothing' made up of a red cotton skirt, white blouse and a brown vest. At least in this outfit I was less likely to stand out.

At about midday, I stopped in a small meadow letting Lainathiel move about and graze as I sat under a large willow tree, its delicate branched blowing in the slight breeze. As I ate a quick sandwich of dried beef and cheese, I took breaks to sketch the land as I saw it. It was too perfect to go unremembered. I stayed that way for about another two hours before the sounds of approaching horses were heard in the distance. Not wanting to take any chances, I packed up quickly and pulled Lainathiel into the forest, tying her to a branch about ten feet in before doubling back to see who was on the road.

A large legion of Redcoats came around the bend led by none other than Tavington himself. He was astride the same horse as before with his Calvary flanked behind him in their impressive green and red coats with the bearskin hats sitting rigidly atop their heads. Behind them came a group of infantry soldiers with Cornwallis and General O'Hara, looking as pompous as I had always thought, riding on their own horses between the Dragoons and foot soldiers. All were dressed in finery and were no doubt on their way to the ball.

My gaze was fixated on Tavington as he rode by my hiding place. He bore the same rigid gaze as all other times I had seen him; his eyes set straight forward neither looking left nor right. His spine was as straight as ever, even when his horse stumbled on the uneven road while his mouth was set in a firm line and the muscles in his legs, displayed by the tight riding breeches, flexed and relaxed with the motion of his horse.

Although I knew he was a powerful man, the sight of him robbed my body of breath and it took great control not to gasp. Just as suddenly my anger sparked, not only for the remembrance of the horrible things Tavington had done and was bound to do, but also for the way he had such an effect of me. Jeeze, I was not the stupid teenage anymore in love with the _idea_ of the man who was twice as old as me. No, he was flesh and blood and more deadly than all else.

_Think of Thomas, think of Thomas_, I tried to remind myself. After all, that's why I was doing this, right? To avenge his death and to fight for my freedom? It has to be. There's nothing here for me. Probably by the end of the movie, when Cornwallis surrenders at Yorktown, I'll just go poof! and arrive back home, where all of this will be just one long dream.

As soon as the last soldier disappeared around the opposite bend, I shoved my way back to Lainathiel and pulled her out onto the road. I waited a couple more seconds before remounting and following the British train, making sure to keep as much distance between myself and them as possible. Last thing I needed was another confrontation.

* * *

After another three hours of traveling over the road and catching ferries across various rivers, the ornately carved gate for the property came into view, flanked on each side by two guards dressed in green uniforms and white powdered wigs. One of them stepped forward as I approached the gate, stopping me from going any further. 

"Name?" he asked, pulling out a roll of parchment.

"Miss Elizabeth Turner," I answered, trying to sound oh so dignified.

The man ran his unnaturally long and thin finger down the list until he stopped halfway towards the bottom. "Ah, here you are. Go right on through, Miss. Enjoy the ball." He stepped back gallantly as he motioned for two slaves to open the gates.

I smiled. "Thank you. I will." With a clicking noise and a soft kick to her ribs, I sent Lainathiel up the gravel road to the immense mansion.

At the top of the hill many grooms and stable boys were running about, trying to house and feed all of the Dragoons' horses. Apparently they had arrived only minutes before me. There were even some Dragoons walking about, making sure their horses were taken proper care off. As one harassed looking groom in a disarrayed white wig came forward to take the reigns of my horse, a Dragoon stepped up next to me.

"May I help you down, Miss?" he asked in thick Scottish bur. I smiled, noticing his deep blue eyes and his dirty blond hair tied back in a green queue.

"Yes, thank you, Sir," I answered as he grabbed me around the waist and lifted me down from the saddle. He sat me on the ground then stepped back, bowing graciously to me. I had to bite my lip to stop from laughing out loud and curtsied in response. He offered to escort me inside, but I turned his offer down as kindly as I could, saying I had some things to attend to out here. He nodded his head in acquiescence and left me to attend to my horse. I don't care if I was at one of the riches plantations in the South; no one touched my horse but me.

I stood there in a small stall rubbing Lainathiel down when I heard someone enter the stable she was housed in. Thinking it was the groom, Jerold, I poked my head out to greet him, but quickly ducked my head back inside before the person saw me. _WTF! What is Tavington doing here?! Wasn't his horse housed in the grander stable?_

I slumped down against the stall door, pulling my knees up to my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible. I could hear the spur of his boots clanking against the dirt floor as he walked down the line of stalls. By the sounds of it, he was meandering along at a snails pace, not a care in the world. I checked my watch quickly, noticing it was five till six. I was to be in that house in five minutes, but with Tavington standing in the stable, I would never make it out without being seen. Damn!

Suddenly the sounds stopped. I strained my ears, attempting to hear where he had gone. Lainathiel, who had been shifting restlessly before, moved foreword, lifting her head over the door of the stall and snorting. I glanced up and stopped breathing when I saw the leather covered hand of Tavington reach in and rub Lainathiel's neck, his face coming into view next.

"Well, aren't you a beauty," he cooed at her. I raised an eyebrow at his statement. Never had he used such a gentle voice before. Every time I heard him it was a commanding, arrogant tone that demanded obedience, not this soft spoken stuff.

Lainathiel tossed her head, no doubt basking in the compliment. Tavington smiled and withdrew his hand, turning around to start walking away. I breathed a quick sigh of relief and muttered, "Traitor," just above my breath at Lainathiel. I widened my eyes when I realized how loud I had said it and clamped my hand over my mouth as the clanking of spurs stopped. I had a sickening feeling that Tavington had heard me.

Before he could come back and investigate, a young stable hand ran into the barn. "Ser, there seems to be somethin' wrong wit yer stallion. He won't seddle down, Ser. Nuthin' seems ta work," the boy said hurriedly.

Tavington gave an audile sigh and commanded, "Very well, take me to him."

Leaning my head against the door in relief, my eyes were drawn back to my watch where I yelped. It was already six o'clock! I jumped up and leap over the stable door, grabbing my backpack that was placed outside and ran outside towards the house, not really caring that a bunch of straw was stuck to my skirt and my hair was in all disarray.

Mrs. Middleton was standing in the atrium of her home, greeting the various officers and gentlemen of the country with her husband, a charming man of middle years, next to her. She glanced pass some officer to stare at me, her thin lips pierced in a frown. Smiling at her husband and excusing herself, she marched over and grabbed my arm, directing me up the grand sweeping staircase. Throwing open a door that led into a spare bedroom, she snapped it shut behind her and gave me a disapproving stare.

"Is there a problem?" I asked sheepishly.

She lifted a piece of my hair were some straw was sticking out of it. _Now how did that get there?_ "Yes, a very big problem. Did you ride here on horseback?" She rose her nose in disgust at the very thought.

Trying to be polite as possible I forced out through clench teeth, "Actually yes, I did. It's the only mode of transportation I have if I wanted to be here on time."

"Well I can't have you performing in such a state. I will someone up with some fresh water and towels so you can . . . freshen up."

"Thank you, Ma'am," I said curtseying while lowering my eyes so she wouldn't see the anger in their depths.

Within minutes of her departure, a soft knock was heard on my door. I hurried over and opened it, greeted by a young maid, her arms full of towels and a porcelain basin and pitcher. I opened the door wider to allow her entrance when I saw Tavington come striding down the hall. I squeaked and shut the door with a snap as soon as she had cleared the threshold. _What is this?! I go without seeing the man for months and now I can't go a frickin' hour! Oui Ve!_

The maid gave me strange look, but glided over to the dressing table and set the bathing stuff down. "Do you require anything more, Miss?" She asked, turning back around to face me.

"No-no, thank you, that'll be all." I was still reeling from having seen Tavington . . . again! She curtseyed and walked out, closing the door behind her. Breathing a sigh, I got to work cleaning myself up and getting into 'dance/actors' mode. Something I did before every performance.

* * *

A half-hour later I was all cleaned and sparkly. My hair pulled up into a braided bun with flowers and ribbons wrapped around the base. My stage make-up was on but I went a little less 'whoreish' fashion than what stage make-up is suppose to be; it's not like I was going to be on stage, merely in the ball room. I had also changed into my Pointe costume, a light pink leotard with multicolored sequence and gold braiding and a pale white, long tutu with pink tights. I was waiting until I was called down before putting my shoes on, otherwise my feet would hurt like a mother before I even began to dance. 

As I went to put my lipstick on, I realized I had grabbed the wrong color, a bright red opposed to the softer pink I was going for. Growling, I got up and stalked over to my backpack, wrenching open the front pocket to dig around my make-up stash for the right color. However, my fingers closed over two small plastic containers. Curious, I pulled my hand out and saw I was holding my extra contact case, but inside were not my regular contacts. Instead I found the trial pair of colored contact I had gotten before I left. I had begged and begged my mother to allow me to get the contacts that changes one's eye color from brown to green. I had always hated my eye color and wanted to see how I would look with green eyes, like my fathers. I had completely forgotten I had packed these!

Smiling, I hurriedly withdrew the clear contacts from my eyes and replaced them with the green ones. I ran over to the dresser and looked in the mirror. The contrast was startling. Although I still had the same facial structure, the change of eye color and make-up made me look like a different person. Perfect!

I finished putting my lipstick on when the same maid as before came back into the room. "Mrs. Middleton requests your presence in the ballroom, Miss." She said.

I nodded and stood up. "I will be down momentarily." She left and I hurriedly put on my gel toe-pads and then the shoes, tying the pink ribbons tight. As I ran out the door, I grabbed the wrapped package containing my ipod speakers and ipod. Walking down the hall towards the opposite staircase, I heard some varying degrees of arguments coming from inside a room about two doors down from me. I smirked as I walked past. Tavington was getting a serious tongue-lashing, too bad I couldn't stay and listen.

Reaching the end of the hall, I gracefully stepped my way down the stairs into the beautiful ballroom. It was alight with many candles, forming a soft yellow glow around the room. Large windows were open to the left of the staircase, opened to the back terrace and Ashley River. The middle of the marble dancing floor was open, surround on all sides by men and women dressed in pastel satins and dark brocades. An orchestra was set in the far left corner, opposite the stairway and servants hurried to and fro, handing out hors d'oeuvres and flutes of champaign.

As gracefully as I could, I descended the stairs and walked over toward the orchestra, ignoring the strange and bemused looks from those around me. I could feel my cheeks heat at their scrutiny, but tried to ignore everyone around me. I needed to be in the zone for this to work.

Near the orchestra I spotted a chair with a white cloth covering it. I smiled and hurried over, pulling it up with the back facing the audience next to the conductor, looking very much like the man from _Phantom of the Opera_, who looked at me curiously. I smiled and withdrew a leather pouch of gold coins; my share of the last raid.

"Act as if you're conducting your musicians and tell them to pretend to play, but to do not let them make a note." His look was even more puzzled then before with a touch of anger, but one look side the pouch had placated him. He nodded and passed the word along, where it was received with some trepidation.

I unwrapped the audio equipment, making sure to keep my back on populace where they thought I was merely speaking with the maestro. I set pulled the speakers up, turned it on and turning the volume up, just as I had done the night of the raid. I moved quickly, selecting the music from my recital and set it to pause before taking my position.

In the crowd I spotted Mrs. Middleton. I caught her eye and nodded minutely, informing her that I was ready to precede. Clearing her throat she stepped into the empty dance space, her hands raised above her ordering for quiet. I happen to glance up and saw Tavington, Cornwallis and O'Hara descending the same stairs I had. I swallowed, trying to calm my beating heart. I was always nervous before a show, but this was ridiculous!

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Distinguished quests!" Mrs. Middleton shouted, nodding toward Cornwallis. She dropped her arms, placing her hands over each other like an opera singer would. "In honor of his lordship, General Cornwallis, I have arranged a special treat. A special performance by a Miss Elizabeth Turner, who had graciously volunteered to demonstrate a dance. Miss Turner, if you please?"

Everyone clapped politely as I stepped forward into the open space. I curtseyed to Mrs. Middleton, then at Cornwallis. Placing myself in the B+ hold, I winked at the conductor who raised his white stick. Quickly he turned and hit play as I had advised him and just as the music started to play from the speakers, he conducted the men. He jumped a bit at first, but knew enough to keep up the act.

I smiled and then moved into the dance, pouring my heart out like I was Rose frolicking through the woods. Feeling the emotions of the music I flowed from one form to another, glissades, jetés, pas de bourrée, toumbes, tour en l'air, and arabesques. Each one as graceful and elegant as the last. I had the feeling of flouting on air as I glided across the floor, a flirtatious smile on my lips just as Rose would have right before she met her Prince. To me dancing was like breathing. You could not force or think about it, just let your body move to the music, express it.

Through the dance I was focused on the music, feeling it, but I could also feel the eyes of one person on me, even with hundreds incorporated. I raised my eyes off the floor, destroying the essence of maiden modesty, catching the gaze of Tavington riveted on my form. For once he was not cold and distant, but had a look of rapt fascination. A blush formed on my cheeks when I locked gazes with him and I hurriedly looked away.

I suffered through three other songs; two from Sleeping Beauty and another from _Pirates of the Caribbean._ By the end of the last song, my feet were killing me from not dancing in a long while, my legs were shaking from exertion, and the air felt incredibly thick, making me feel as if no oxygen was entering my lungs.

Everyone clapped with a little more fervor than before, forcing a smile from me as I made my last bow. I scurried over to the conductor, wrapping my ipod stuff before anyone see them and congratulated him on such a good performance at miming. He didn't have a clue what I was talking about.

Mrs. Middleton came up to me as couples entered onto the dance floor, wanting their chance to partake in the festivities as well.  
"Excellent job, Miss Turner," she said smiling.

I smiled. "Thank you. It was an honor."

"Now why don't you go change in something a bit more suitable, and join us down here."

The smiled dropped from my face as I listened to what she said. "Ma'am?" I asked cautiously.

"You didn't think after a performance like that I was going to banish you from the festivities?" She turned her head away laughing as if it was preposterous to think such a think. "No, you will join us. Cornwallis has asked especially to speak with you."

"Cornwallis wants to talk to-to me?" No friggin' way! This is better than I could ever plan.

"Yes, now hurry it up! We don't want to keep his lordship waiting."

"No, Ma'am," I laughed, taking my ipod and speeding back up the stairs. I flung myself into the room, tearing things off as I went and shutting the door with a snap. Although the blue dress was nothing compared to what the other women were wearing, it fit my figure nicely. The blue brocade was a nice contrast against my dark skin and hair with a square neck that was cut in a way it accentuated my lack of . . . well lack of substance, giving me more 'oomph' around there and the wide skirt and petticoats made my slim waist even slimmer. I gently undid my hair, letting the curls fall freely around my face, but I couldn't for the life of me, figure what to do with my hair. Nothing was grand enough for such an occasion at the ball.

Finally deciding on a plan, I rummaged in my bag for bobby-pins and then set about pinning various curls up to form a messy bun while allowing others to fall and frame my face. The style actually worked out well and I had to smile at the difference it made. I actually thought I looked pretty, something I never really thought about myself. I knew I wasn't ugly, but I didn't see anything remotely good about my appearance either. I saw it that night.

I hurried back down stairs, receiving compliments as I went. Smiling and nodding in thanks to each person, I was not really listening as I searched around for Mrs. Middleton. She was dancing with some young Redcoat, the same how had helped me, laughing as he twirled her around the floor.

As I stood there another Redcoat I didn't recognize came up to me. "Can I have—?"

"No."

"Well maybe—"

"No."

"Perhaps—"

"Seriously, no."

He shook his head and walked away, defeated by my lack of interest. I had more important things to worry about.

The dance ended moments after and she came walking over to me, her cheeks flushed even under the thick layer of white make-up.

"Ah, Miss Turner, so glad for you to finally join us."

I smiled, noticing that she was little on the tipsy side. Could somebody get drunk in 20 minutes?

She grabbed my arm, hooking it around hers and then led me outside into the clear night air. I breathed in a deep sigh, thankful for the coolness of the night. It was very steamy in the house.

There were not as many people outside as inside, but there were still a good few. Mostly it was couples, walking around and chatting with others. All the ladies seemed to glitter and sparkle in the light from the lamps while the men looked posh and strong in their overcoats. The lawn was wonderfully manicured and a large stone path spread out to the edge of the river. Many of the gowns were a lot richer than mine, with jewelry that made my eyes widen with wonder. I could feel my cheeks heat at being so underdressed.

We wondered our way along, greeting various people. There were so many I can't recall any of their names, not that I paid much attention either. The sounds of the orchestra permeated the air and gave off a soft atmosphere that boarded on romantic. After cutting our way through the maze of people, I finally spotted the back of O'Hara and Cornwallis standing just in front of us. _Here goes nothing._

"Lord Cornwallis!" Mrs. Middleton fairly screeched, trying to gain his attention. It worked. He turned around, eyeing Mrs. Middleton almost wearily with O'Hara right next to him.

"Mrs. Middleton," Cornwallis answered bowing to her. "Charming evening."

"Isn't it?" she purred. "My Lord, General O'Hara, I'd like you to meet Miss Elizabeth Turner. She put on that wonder dance for your enjoyment earlier."

I was practically yanked up next to her, pulled right in front of Cornwallis. I smiled at him and curtseyed, saying with a touch of English accent, "Lord Cornwallis. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

He bowed back to me. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Turner. Wonderful performance. I think time itself stopped to watch your dance."

"Mmm, yes, quite beautiful," O'Hara chimed in, taking my hand and kissing the back of it. I smiled even though revulsion coursed through me._ Yuck!_

"Thank you, My Lord, General," I answered, taking my hand back and rubbing the back of it on my dress discreetly. "An artisan is always pleased to hear her work is appreciated."

"Miss Turner has actually told me that she has studied under Jean Georges Noverre," Mrs. Middleton chimed.

"Not _the_ Noverre?" O'Hara asked shocked.

"The very same," I answered trying very hard not to roll my eyes.

"I heard he is such a disagreeable man!"

I tried hard to glare at O'Hara. His snobbish tone put me on defense even though I had never actually studied with Noverre. "He is passionate about his work, General. His love is dancing; surely you cannot fault him for that?" I added sweetly.

"W-well no, of course not, I merely—" O'Hara stammered only to be rescued by Cornwallis.

"Excellent point, Miss Turner. A man is not a man unless he has a passion for something. Quite like our own Colonel Tavington." He practically yelled the last part as said man walked by. Tavington stopped in mid-step, and then turned his attention to the four of us. He was impeccably dressed as the other men in a bright red coat and dark colored breeches, but his standing gave far more power than anyone else.

"You called, My Lord?" he asked stepping forward and looking between us, his gaze staying on me for a second more before turning to Cornwallis again.

"Yes, Miss Turner here was just telling us of her passion for dancing. I believe she has a propensity for it, wouldn't you say?" I tried to smile, but my mind kept repeating _WHAT THE HELL?!_

Mrs. Middleton made some excuse to leave, allowing Tavington to step up right next to me. "I should say so. Your dancing is such I have never seen, Miss Turner," Tavington purred, bring my hand up to kiss the back of it, staring at my class ring that adorned my middle finger. Unlike O'Hara, the feel of his lips on my skin sent jolts of sensations up my arm.

"Tha-thank you," I stammered, ashamed that I could keep my voice steady. He smirked and dropped my hand.

"Do you have a first name to go with the last, Miss Turner?" Tavington asked smiling, trying to be all suave.

"Elizabeth. I was named after my mother."

"I'm sure your mother must be very proud," Cornwallis said.

"I suppose she would be, if she was still living."

They blanched and tried to apologize, but I brushed them off, saying it happened a while ago and was no matter now.

"Do you have an escort for this evening, Miss Turner?" Cornwallis asked, trying to change the subject.

Knowing that it wasn't proper in this time frame for a woman to be on her own, I lifted my chin and said, almost defiantly, "No, Sir. I had not anticipated being invited for the remainder of the ball."

"Oh dear, that is most unfortunate," O'Hara remarked, apparently calmed down from before.

"Yes," Cornwallis muttered. Suddenly a gleam entered his eye. "Colonel Tavington!" The colonel had been trying to discreetly wander away, but the voice of his commander pulled him back.

"Yes, Sir?" He asked almost hesitantly, not doubt noticing the same gleam.

"Why don't you escort Miss Turner about, seeing as you are without one as well?"

"What?!" I squeaked.

"What?"

Tavington and I glanced at each other before looking back at Cornwallis.

"Oh, what a marvelous idea, Sir" O'Hara beamed.

"No, that's really not necessary—" I began but was interrupted by Cornwallis.

"Nonsense. He would be delighted, wouldn't you, Colonel?" Talk about being put on the spot.

"It would be my pleasure," he replied amiably. But the look on his face stated that was exactly what he did _not_ want to do. "Miss Turner?" He offered my his arm and, knowing I was backed into a corner, took it.

"Gentlemen, it's been a pleasure." I curtseyed then allowed Tavington to pull me away.

As soon as we were out of earshot I disentangled myself from him. "Thank you, Sir, but it is not necessary for you to escort me. I'm quite comfortable on my own, thank you." I turned and walked away, not really caring what Tavington thought. Unfortunately he caught up with me rather quick.

"I'm afraid it's not going to be that easy, Miss Turner."

I spun around to face him, tilting my head up since he was at least six inches taller than me. "And why not?" He stopped and gave me a puzzled look for a moment then shook his head.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing, you just remind me of someone." _Oh really?_

I waited a few seconds, waiting for Tavington to continue. "You know you haven't answered my first question."

He turned a glare to me. "My _commanding_ officer," he spat. "Has ordered me to escort you, and escort you I shall."

"Well, I'm relieving you of your duty."

He smirked. "I don't think you can do that."

"Whether I can or cannot means little, I _am_ relieving you. Good night, Colonel." I turned and stormed away again, not wanting to be in his presence anymore.

"Why do I feel a certain animosity towards me, Miss Turner? Have I done something to offend you?" Tavington asked, walking in time with my angry strides. _Dude, don't get me started._

I stopped again and faced him. "Animosity? And I was trying so hard to hide it." He frowned at my tone. "Let me guess, Colonel. You're use to having women throw themselves at your feet, am I correct?"

He became guarded and stood taller, eyeing me like he would an opponent. "I've had the reputation."

"Then perhaps I'm doing you a favor with my animosity," I remarked, looking him up and down.

He frowned and was about to reply when a servant carrying a tray of champaign walked up. I took a class, as did Tavington. Glancing behind the server, I saw a rowboat pulling away from the _York_ at a pretty fast speed. _Good, they figured out my meaning._ I quickly looked away, not wanting Tavington to follow my gaze; my mood suddenly better.

My eyes drifted back to his on their own accord. When they locked, fake green and ice blue, a shudder rolled through me as goose bumps rose on my arms. "Miss Turner—"

"Colonel Tavington," I interrupted. "Seeing as the chance of us ever seeing each other again is extremely remote, I see no reason for us to continue arguing."

He quirked an eyebrow. "I'll drink to that," he said, rising his glass.

I smirked, "be my guest," rising my own and taking a sip of the sweet liquid.

Suddenly the _York_ exploded with a deafening clamor, sending great billows of fire, wood, and smoke into the air. I jumped even though I had been expecting it and Tavington spun around to catch the display. The wood rained down on the water as people gasped and grew silent, watching with morbid fascination.

Only a few feet behind us I heard Mrs. Simms, a devout loyalist, shout, "Oh fireworks, lovely! Hahaha!" This night was turning out to be a great time.

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**Phew! Really long chapter, nearly ten pages when I typed it. So please review! They really make me happy and give me even more motivation to write more!**

**And for Cate and Caroline, who acted with me in _the Importance of Being Earnest_ last weekend, I think this counts as . . . . .BALLIN'!!!**


	20. Chapter 20: Tavington's Eyes

**Hello everyone, new chapter time! I want to thank everyone who has reviewed so far; they've made me a review junkie. I hope ya'll like the chapter.**

**Chapter Quote: '**No matter what my body may say, my brain is fully against Tavington and no amount of _goosebumps_ or _loss of breath_ is ever going to change that.'

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**Chapter 19: Tavington's Eyes**

After hearing Mrs. Simms, I snorted, careful not to choke on the champaign I _had_ been drinking. "And here I thought I had escaped all of the airheads," I muttered aloud, glancing around at all the startled women and men.

This time Tavington laughed, although it wasn't more than a snort and quick chuckle. For some reason it gave me great pleasure to know I had done that.

"You know, I'm craving a dance right now, care to join me?" I asked him. _What the hell. Might as well enjoy the rest of the night._

He was apprehensive to accept, but nodded his head and allowed me to link my arm with his, leading him to the ballroom. As we passed a very irate Cornwallis, I could feel Tavington tense next to me.

"Problem?" I asked through a smile, since someone had just commented me on my 'wonderful dance.'

He sighed. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Miss Turner." I suppose I could have pressed, but I already knew what was bothering him so I wisely kept quiet. Too easy to poke a joke that could come out _very_ wrong.

We entered the stifling room and watched as couples twirled and stepped in a particularly difficult looking dance. I seemed to have good timing for it ended in moments and a slightly slower dance began. It looked similar to a waltz but was no waltz I had ever known.

"Well are we going to dance or are you just going to gawk?" Tavington asked stiffly. I tired not to glare at I turned my attention to him.

"I'm trying to learn the steps before we go out there so I don't make myself look like a fool."

"I thought you were an accomplished dancer?" he asked in a mocking tone.

"I am, but there are different styles of dance, Colonel. I specialize in ballet, Pointe, and yes they are two different things, and tap . . . kinda. Not this coupling stuff."

He smirked. "Well then allow me to teach you."

In one swift moment he pulled me onto the floor and into the ring of dancers. He took my left hand and placed it on his shoulder while one of his found its way around my waist, pulling me within an inch of him and clasped my free hand in his other one. I could feel the heat radiating from his body which warmed more than anything ever could. Being this close to him and having his hand around my waist sent sensations of a kind I _never_ knew existed through my body from the tip of my head to the ends of my toes. Who knew someone could have this much power over another.

He led me around in circles and my feet magically picked up the rhythm. Since I had had taken a class in ballroom, it wasn't so hard to fall into step, but I will grudgingly admit his guiding did help. I pulled my eyes up from his chest, looking at him from under my eyelashes. As I stared into the blue depths of his eyes, I couldn't help noticing around the inner circle of his irises there was a thin strip of light grey, like the sea at the beginnings of a storm. The smell of him was even over-powering. He smelt of leather, horses and pine soap; giving more masculinity than before.

My mouth was dry while my ears buzzed. I was flouting, more so than when I danced on my own. My feet weren't touching the ground, but were instead gliding on clouds suspended high above everyone. It was just him and me, flowing around in swift circles as everyone else in the room disappeared. I had always heard that the best things happen while your dancing, but never had I actually understood that statement before. I almost dropped my façade; it felt so good to be in his arms.

That realization dropped me back to earth like a sack of potatoes. _What the bloody hell was I doing?!_ There was no way, no freaking way that I was actually _flirting_ with Colonel 'the Butcher' Tavington. What would Ben say? Or Gabriel for that matter? I practically groaned at the thought if they found me like this; nestled in the arms of the man who had killed Thomas. I tensed reflexively. This was wrong on so many different levels.

"What's wrong?" Tavington whispered, his hot breath tickling my ear. _Oh bad. Oh bad, bad, bad!_

I took a step back, away from his body and warmth, his arms dropping to his sides as he looked at me confused. I felt bereft of his warmth, but steadied my resolve. The dance had just come to an end and people were applauding the orchestra.

"I can't do this," I whispered, then turned and fled up the stairs. I heard him come after me after me, but Cornwallis called him to attention, which allowed me to make my get away, back to my room.

I quickly changed out of the dress, back into my boys clothes, and let my hair down only long enough to pull it into a ponytail. I threw my stuff unceremoniously in the bag and hurried to the writing desk in the room. I left a message for Mrs. Middleton stating that some family matter had risen and I had to depart immediately. Please forgive me, blah, blah, blah and all that jazz.

I slunk my way out to the front lawn, conscientious of all the people about. Quickly I had Lainathiel saddle and was riding down the embankment when I looked behind and saw Tavington come from inside the house looking my way. At least it was dark enough he couldn't really see me. I was thankful for that.

As Lainathiel plodded along, I began to think. I imagine what scared more than anything about Tavington is that for some reason when he was around, my emotions were off the Richter-Scale. I mean it's not as if I'm an impassive person, but at least I had control, I'll abet not much, over how I felt and releasing said emotions. _But, seriously! Why did I have to get goo-goo eyed over the freaking enemy! Life would be easier if I had fallen for like Gabriel or something. Wait, did I say fallen? Like Love? Oh bloody hell, no! I don't even know the man_. I stopped Lainathiel._ Oh this isn't bad, it's horrendous! Oh, why doesn't God just send a lightening bolt through my heart?_

Clouds began to roll in from the west, signaling that a storm was brewing. _Maybe I spoke too soon._ I kicked Lainathiel into more a trot, even though neither of us could see the road. We only made it about an hour before the skies opened up in a downpour. _Great, just great. _

"You know I was only kidding!" I shouted upwards. I was only rewarded with a bolt of lightening and a clap of thunder, scaring the bajesus out of Lainathiel and me. I dismounted, for my safety and hers, and led her on foot for another hour before I finally realized that I was not going to make it back to camp that night. No wonder many people stayed at the Middleton Place for the night. I sighed and stomped my foot in frustration. This was _not_ part of the plan.

Pulling her off the road and into the forest where we would be offered at least _some_ protection from the elements, I tied her to a tree and took my cloak from on the saddlebags, wrapping it around me to hold in what little heat was left in my body. I sat down under a tree, leaning my back against the coarse bark and tried to sleep. After all, the sun will come out tomorrow. . . . I hope.

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Yea, there was no sun. The next morning it was still raining, although not as heavily as before. It was more of a light drizzle, but with the dark, grey clouds overhead, I could barely even tell it was morning. Only the fact that there was some gaining light gave any hint to the time of day. 

After a night out in the rain with no fire or shelter, I was shivering like a scared guinea pig, my body so cold I was surprised I was still conscious. I tired to stand, but my joints were so stiff it sent jolts of pain through my body. I cried out and clutched Lainathiel's neck until I was untwisted enough to swing in the saddle, a painful process on its own. I led her out of the forest and onto the road, biting my lip as each step sent jolts through me and kicked her into a gallop. If I could reach the camp soon, I might actually live to talk about the ball.

The ball. Not exactly as I would have pictured my first social event in the 18th century. I pictured myself in a beautiful gown with flowers in my hair and a dashing man to escort me in all the dances. Not to be shown around like some piece of furniture and then forced to endure the company of a man I despise. No matter what my body may say, my brain is fully against Tavington and no amount of _goosebumps_ or _loss of breath_ is ever going to change that. I swear it!

By the time I made it back to camp, the storm had passed leaving the air cooler and dryer. My head was pounding and I was shaking uncontrollably, even though my body had warmed from Lainathiel and the exertion of clinging to her back. I was also very nauseated, having to use almost all of my will power not to be sick or fall from her back. Let's just say that my mood was no where near sunshine and daisies.

I wandered through the swamp, not really paying attention to where Lainathiel was going; I was so lost in my own little world. It wasn't until I heard shouts that I looked up to see we had returned. My vision had started to become blurry and darkness was clouding my vision that I couldn't comprehend what was going on.

I felt someone pull me from the saddle, allowing me to fall into their arms as they carried me up the path to Ben. I glanced up into the concerned face of Gabriel, my gaze beginning to waver as darkness shrouded my senses. I blinked, trying in vain to see what was happening. I could hear more shouting and saw people crowd around, but Gabriel had one intent and one intent only. He came crashing into the separated part of the mission, disrupting Ben who was bent over a map with Villeneuve.

After that everything became disoriented. I remember Ben had a look of horror on his face and I was placed on the ground, blankets thrown over my shaking form. Wet rages were wiped across my forehead, causing me to shiver even more as I desperately sought the warmth I thought my body was lacking. My eye lids felt so heavy, as if an elephant were trying to pull them down. I tried to keep them open, but each time they closed it took twice as much effort to open. Ben's face came into my view again and I think I whispered, "I'm sorry," before I gave in finally, surrendering myself to the darkness.

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_The warmth of the sun shined on my face. I opened my eyes, squinting from the glare of the bright light. **What was this?**_

_"C'mon, Steph! Are you just going to lie there all day or are you coming in?"_

_I sat up and looked around me. I was at the beach, the one near my old home in Connecticut. **What's going on?** Suddenly a shadow fell over me and I looked up into the green eyes of my second oldest brother, James. _

_"Well? Are you coming or do I have toss you in?"_

_"Yea, yea, I'm coming," I laughed, staring at his handsome face. He reached down and pulled me up, then started running toward the waters of Long Island Sound where I saw my other two brothers were already in, trying to dunk each other under the waves. I looked around as I ran down the beach to join them. It was our 4th of July picnic that we had with the neighbors every year. I glanced back behind me and saw my parents sitting in the beach chairs next to our neighbors, Paul and Mary Krocki. They were laughing as my dad said yet another of his many horrible jokes.** It's my family, I'm back!**_

_**Wait, does that banner say 2004?**_

_Suddenly I tripped and started to fall towards the sand. Snapping my eyes shut, I flung my hands in front of me to break the fall but instead of sand I landed on . . . snow? _

_My eyes snapped open in shock and I rolled over, looking at the dense forest of trees that lined the ski trail, heading all the way back up the pass. **Huh?**_

"_Ha-ha, hit the snow again, Ass-Pirate? Can't you go four feet without falling down?" I swiveled my head around and glared at the form of my oldest brother, Bryan._

"_Shut up, Colon Captain. At least I can get up, unlike you who needs two sticks." I preceded to use my knees and hands to stand on blue and white snowboard**. It looks like we were on our semi-yearly ski/snowboard trip back home in Colorado.** I shrugged and then hopped around until my board and I were facing in the right direction._

"_Race ya to the bottom!" I yelled as my board began to pick up motion on the downward slope. _

"_Fine, but last one there has to change Sophie's dipper for the rest of the trip!"_

"_You're on!" Although it really wasn't much of a bet since Leah, Bryan's wife, usually changed their daughter's dippers herself. Bryan usually found excuses to leave when that happened, but it was all in the competition and this time I was going to win._

_I already had a head start and bent my knees, leaning forward a tiny bit further, hoping momentum would propel me the rest of the way down. My speed was increasing and I could hear Bryan swooshing behind me, trying to make up ground. I laughed at the exhilaration of the raw wind in my face. Freedom could only be found like this. Suddenly, I noticed a sign on the side of the slope. It was warning that there different levels of jumps ahead. **Wait a minute, jumps?**_

_The next thing I knew I was literally flying through the air, since said jumps had somehow appeared right in front of me. I screamed as the world fell away, leaving me to fly above the trees and snow that blanketed the mountain. **This must be what a bird feels, **and then the ground began to rush up to me, coming closer and closer with each nanosecond. I closed my eyes and tensed, waiting for the nice, hard impact that would surely break every bone in my body._

_Instead I landed on pillows. I sprung open my eyes I saw my pink quilt that my grandmother had hand made for my sixteenth birthday. Pushing myself up, I turned over and sat on my bed, looking around at all the awards, pictures and posters that covered my pale blue walls. Everything looked as if I had never left. Pictures of prom were scattered over my dresser, various shelves, and across the headboard of my waterbed. Clothes were dotted here and there along with an occasion shoe or hat. Books lined one of the walls; my life's devotion were my books and the dragon tapestry that currently covered my windows like a curtain. Even my TV, DVD player, and stereo still had the little glow-in-the-dark- stars taped to their front._

_Suddenly the door to my room was flung open, admitting my youngest older brother, Tommy, looking a gangly as ever in his baggy Rolling Stones shirt and dark jeans. "Are you going to sulk in here all day?"_

"_Huh?"_

_He rolled his brown eyes, so similar to mine, and stepped forward, falling onto my bed and sending small waves to ripple across the surface. "Now you're trying to forget? C'mon Step-On-Me, I'll only be down in D.C. for a year, one year then I'll be back. It's not like I'm moving to Mars or something." His eyes twinkled with the same humor that was ever present in our father. _

"_Huh, yea, and then I'll be moving back home for school. And don't call me 'Step-On-Me,'" I took one of my stuffed bears and threw it at him. He caught it with the reflexes of the baseball player and threw it back, hitting my square in the face. "Can't win, can I?" I asked, rubbing my nose._

"_Nope. Sorry little sister, but I'm afraid you just can't beat the Great Thomas Hawkins!" He puffed his chest out making him look like a engorged twig. _

_I raised an eyebrow. "Yea, ok. Tommy, you might want to deflate that head of yours. I don't think you'll fit through my door on your way out."_

_He laughed, making a grab for the bear and throwing it at me again. I blinked in reflex and held my hands out to catch it but instead caught something different. Opening my eyes again, I realized I was standing in the middle of my high school's football field, holding my graduation cap. "Congratulations Class of 2006!" I heard my principle say. There was a great roar as all of us graduating seniors herded our way out. _

_Blinking my eyes again I was standing next to my parents as pictures were taking. A flash later I was saying goodbye as I headed out on my end of the year trip. **Flash!** I saw the truck swerve. **Flash!** Ben was looking at me with kind eyes as he examined the wound on my side. **Flash!** Gabriel enlisting. **Flash!** Games and playing with the Martin children. **Flash!** Working in the fields. **Flash!** Dead bodies rolling down the river. A torrent of images were flashing across my eyes. My Mom's Fiftieth. Little William's scrapped knee. Bryan's wedding. Tavington shooting Thomas. Walking along the beach. Tavington accosting me. My parents worried faces. Tavington's eyes boring into mine while I danced. Tavington's face as I talked with Cornwallis. Tavington's eyes alight with an unknown emotion as he stared at me while we danced. Tavington's eyes starring at me. Tavington's eyes._

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**OK, a little insight into Stephanie's past life in 2006. Loved it? Hated it? Let me know!**


	21. Chapter 21: The Chase

**Chapter quote: **"A distraction? Well why the hell did you say so?"

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**Chapter 20: The Chase**

With a gasp I sat up abruptly, breathing heavily as sweat drenched my body and my hair flew around me in a frizzled mess. Rapidly moving my eyes back and forth in wild succession, I searched for those unforgiving eyes of shard blue that were burned into my retinas. However, I only saw the bare trees and black waters of the swamp, steadily growing darker as the sun set. Just as suddenly, I felt the blood rush away from my head and let out a heavy groan from the sensation of lightheadedness. When I was able to open my eyes and saw those of Ben's blue and Gabriel's brown starring back at me with concern.

"How are you feeling?" Ben asked, squatting down next to me on the ground.

"Like my bloody body has been run over by a bloody truck." I brushed my hand under my bangs, rubbing my forehead. "What happened?"

"We were hoping you could tell us," Gabriel responded. Just then the wind kicked up, making me shiver and pull one of the many blankets up and around my shoulders. Without a word, Ben reached under my legs and behind my back, picking me up as if I weighted nothing, and carried me over to the fire. He set me down gently before the glowing flames, its light and heat washing over me like a wave from the ocean.

"Normally, I would yell at you for that, but I just don't feel like it," I muttered, staring darkly into the fire.

"You must still be sick if you don't feel the need to nag us so much," Gabriel confessed with a smile. I may not have been feeling all that sparkly, but I still could glare. Which I did. A very large one.

I glanced back at Ben and saw him staring at me curiously, as if he was mesmerizing my face. "Listen, Ben," I began, not sure how I was going to get this out. I took a deep breath, staring intently at me hands and just plowed on. "I'm . . . sorry. About everything. I shouldn't have acted the way I did. It was foolish and irresponsible, not to mention I feel like a stupid immature teenager." I sighed and brought my eyes back up. "What I said, I never meant it—"

"Stephanie—"

"No, let me finish." Ben closed his mouth, but kept his concentration on me. "You've done nothing but save me, help me, keep me even. You have sheltered me since I first came here and I have been treating your kindness like crap. I don't think it's enough, but know that I am sorry, really sorry for the way I acted."

Ben smiled and then wrapped an around my shoulders, pulling me into a big bear hug. "You have nothing for which you should be ashamed," he echoed Charlotte in my ear. I closed my eyes tight and wound my arms around him, feeling the warmth of a father comforting me like nothing else. We both stayed like this for several seconds, before I broke away, wiping my cheek where two tears had escaped.

"Hey where is everyone?" I asked, noticing that there were only a total of five people left, including Ben, Gabriel and me after I had settled down a bit.

"I gave them leave for a few days. It'll be Christmas soon so I let the men go back to see their families."

I made an 'oh' with my mouth and nodded my head.

"Now, explain to us how you came to be in such a state, Stephanie," Ben commented after a few moments of silence.

I shrugged trying to remember the details that were still a wee bit fuzzy. "I got caught out in that storm . . . um, how long ago was that?"

"Three days," Gabriel answered, taking a seat next to me on the log.

"THREE DAYS!" _Ok, a little longer than I thought._ I shook my head. "Ok, so I got caught out in that storm three days ago. I was trying to make it back to camp and . . . well didn't make it in time."

"Why didn't you just stay at Middleton Place?" Ben asked, slightly angered. _Oh boy, here we go._

"Because I had had enough of the pompous British ego, which you totally stomped on with that brilliant display of fireworks. I'm pretty sure Cornwallis turned about three shades of red . . . I even think I saw purple," I remarked, thinking about it.

Gabriel smiled shaking his head and even Ben looked pleased. "Really? Tell me, how did the rest of them take it?"

I smiled at the memory. "Well Cornwallis has this lapdog, General O'Hara." I made a face. "He's a slimy weasel. He paled when the explosion happened, which wasn't that noticeable since I'm pretty sure he was wearing women's powder." Gabriel snorted and Ben chocked on the rum he had just taken a sip on. I continued on, ignoring them, "Um, many of the British soldiers there were upset. The British resolve is failing, quite rapidly now that I think about it, and that was like a sucker punch to the gut. All in all, you really socked it to 'em. Bravo."

Ben smiled, having recovered. "Wouldn't have known about it if you hadn't gotten that tip of the supply train."

"Speaking of which, is it alright if Gabriel and I go scouting again this weekend?" I pulled the 'puppy-dog pout' on him. I know, low, but I wanted to see what else I could wrangle out of the British. Ben agreed and after much persuasion, allowed me to get up and see to my horse, who was in better condition that me. Figures.

* * *

Over the next few weeks and into the New Year, I visited the Tavern every Friday and Saturday night with Gabriel, weaseling around and getting different information from different men, but mostly it was the Private, who I found was named Miles Clifford, that supplied my intelligence. Said intelligence led to many more raids, at one point stopping any kind of supplies getting to Cornwallis from Charleston. In actuality, the whole 'spying' business was quite fun; I felt a bit like James Bond or even Austin Powers (Yea, Baby, Yea!). During those nights, Gabriel usually took to the streets while I went gallivanting off, breaking the hearts of men with my teasing and seduction (something I surprised even myself in being able to do.). 

Alice, Robert's daughter, also became a kind of sanctuary in herself for me. It was so nice and refreshing to talk to another woman, someone who didn't care who had the best gun or who could spit the farthest (I got beat, hands down). Going on my espionage trips was like a little vacation and a chance to play a character that was so much fun. Sure there were a few time were I was about **THIS** close to beating the pulp out of one guy or another, but it came with the territory. It also made me respect the women in that line of work A LOT more.

The little thrill I got from playing 'Andy' changed, however, about three weeks after the first of January. It was a Saturday night and I had made my usual rounds with the British soldiers that had come in. A wink here, a flutter there, but nothing really interesting that I hadn't already gained from the night before.

I had just bussed a table and was making my toward the back when the door to the Tavern flew open, leaves and some sleet flew in behind the three men that stood in the door's threshold. The dim, yellow light from the fire created more shadows than light, but it was enough to illuminate the opposing red and green uniforms of Dragoons. A second later, as the men stepped into the room, the fire showed the men to be Captain Wilkins, Captain Bordon, and . . . Colonel Tavington.

Cursing, I hurried into the back liquor room before they could see me. I stood there for several minutes, pacing back and forth, muttering a varying amount of curses at the stupid Dragoons who had to show up and ruined everything. _Bloody, Obstinate, Pig-faced, MEN!_

The curtain was pulled back and I caught a brief glimpse of the officers seated at the back corner table, watching each person with a calculating eye. Then the curtain fell back and was replaced by Robert's massive chest. I flicked my eyes up ward and met his unhappy ones as he crossed his sausage-like arms in front of him, a deep frown marring his pudgy features.

"Ah take ya saw 'em?" He practically growled.

"Yea, kind of hard to miss." I started pacing again. "Bloody hell, what am I going to do?" I muttered more to myself than anyone else.

"Well, ya best figure it out soon cause Ah'm not wantin' ta be dealin' with 'em. This is yer endeavor," (If I wasn't so freaked out, I would have marveled at his use of large words.) "And Ah'm not lettin' me or mine anywhere near 'em. Ya hear?"

I stopped pacing and glared at him. "And what do you want me to do? I've already had run-ins with Tavington and I'm not looking forward to another one tonight. Why don't you let Sarah deal with them? She can handle it, plus much more," I finished quietly to myself.

"Sarah left. Apparently she had a family madder ta deal with."

"Well what about Hannah, or Rebecca, or even Caroline for Christ's sakes! Please, it will literally be suicide if I go out there now."

He uncrossed his arms and leaned over towards me, his garlic breath brush my cheek as I tried not to gag. "Ah thought ya wanted ta spy on 'em? Use yer 'woman's wiles' against them damned British? Why not the head officers?"

I took a step back and a deep breath to calm both my heart and my anger. "Yes, that was true, but not with those officers. _They_," I gestured with my arms toward the curtain. "Already know who I am. _They_ won't be fooled, besides Tavington is way smarter than to fall for it."

"Tried it, have ya?" A knowing smiled graced his lips and so wanted to smack it off him.

I grounded my teeth together. "No, actually, I haven't, but I _know_ he won't be fooled because he's the bloody Butcher!"

Robert's eyes grew wide and the first traces of fear crept into their pale blue depths. "Out," he growled.

"What?" I stared at him confused.

"Ah want ya out, now, and don't ya be comin' back. Ya brought this on yerself, and ya brought to ma establishment." _Again with the big words._ "Ah'll let ya out the back, just so ya don't get hurt, but don't ya be comin' now, ya hear?! Ah've had enough."

I nodded and grabbed my cloak and bag from the hanger on the door. I turned around to thank Robert, but he was already leaving out of the curtain to the bar. Just as I watched it flutter back into place, Tavington's eye caught with mine and I felt as if I had been punched in the gut. In the words of Will Turner, 'Time to go!'

I scrambled out of the back curtain and into the kitchen, just as I heard boots come stomping in behind me. _C'mon Steph! Get a move on!_ Searching around, I saw the back door over by one of the brick ovens used in the morning to make bread. I crawled across the room, around tables and barrels laden with food, the cooks and other serving wenches staring at me oddly as I dashed to the door. I hit it at a run once I was free, only to crash into the hard wood. The lever thing was eccentric and I had a heard time lifting it since it was covered with a crap load of rust. Finally I got it to budge and flew out the door, just as Tavington entered the kitchen to the surprise of everyone else.

Panting, I ran across the wet, cold ground, and dashed behind a large barrel hidden in the shadows. I peaked around the curved wooden edge, using my dark hair to cover the white of my face as I watched Tavington step out into the yard.

He looked this way and that, trying to find my tracks or hear anything that would alert him of my presence, but it was so dark he could barely see a thing. I held my breath as he walked closer to my hiding spot, only to spin around mere feet from me when Wilkins and Bordon came out through the back door, staring at their commander in what I would call a confused-but-not-saying-a-word-since-he-will-beat-the-living-crap-out-of-us look.

"Sir, what are you looking for?" Bordon asked in his really deep British voice.

An uncomfortable tingling sensation was prickling though my feet, so I shifted slightly, hoping to give more blood to my feet. Accidentally I brushed a rock the tumbled along the ground for a second. I gasped inaudibly and froze as Tavington whorled around, his eyes flicking back and forth around the shadowed area. I could see him press his lips in frustration and then spun back and walk briskly up to his officers.

"We're leaving, now!" he barked. The two captains nodded and followed after Tavington back into the Tavern, but not before giving each other the same look.

As soon as they were gone, I breathed a sigh of relief and fell back against the wall. _That was a little too close for comfort,_ I thought while sitting there, letting blood come back to my feet. I waited another five minutes before walking further back into the shadows, untying Lainathiel and then hurrying out onto the streets to look for Gabriel and go back to camp. It looks like my espionage days were over.

* * *

The following Monday, Ben, Gabriel, Me and about ten other men set out for the raid that I had gotten word of the Friday before. We rode out of camp early that morning, heading for an area about four miles north from Aunt Charlotte's Plantation. Afterwards, I would be heading their way for a week on leave from the militia. Since I hadn't had a 'real' vacation, Ben thought I should go spend time with the children, and hey, couldn't argue there. 

By the time the sun was at high noon, we were positioned just on the out skirts of a curved meadow. The trees were spaced further apart than normal, thus making it a bit more difficult for us to conceal ourselves appropriately. Also, since we were spaced at large intervals and with only a few of us, I was a little apprehensive about this all sepal. That is, until Ben had the brilliant idea of standing and blocking the road, then I was freaking scared. I, for one, thought he was nuts, but let him go ahead anyway. No need for me to burst his bubble when I would be hiding.

Soon the caravan came around the hump of trees and stopped dead when they saw Ben and Gabriel standing there in their way, both looking nonchalant as they studied the soldiers. I took aim from behind a large rock, waiting for the signal to start firing or to come take the loot. It all depended on the British and whether they wanted to die or live to fight another day.

As Ben confronted the officers, I noticed several Redcoats slip from the back of two of the wagons, their weapons in hand. The angle at which they left made it impossible for Ben to see them, but perfect for me. Grimacing, I noticed that number of Redcoats started to multiply by at least half. _We need more men!_

Suddenly I saw one Redcoat slink alongside the wagon and take aim at Ben as he stood there haggling with the resident officer. Faster than lightening I brought the bead up and fixed the man's head in my view. Taking a breath and letting it out, I closed one eye and pulled the trigger, the deafening sound of my gun was echoing among the dead trees as the force pushed the butt into my shoulder.

Ben and Gabriel jumped, then began to open fire with their pistols as they ran and took cover behind a large fallen log while the Redcoats arranged themselves into formation, ready to take us on. Cursing at missing the sniper, I dove to the side and landed next to Gabriel behind the old wood as musket shots echoes all around us, focused mostly on the bark. Bits of wood flew in the air as it was hit and one bullet made it through, missing my leg by inches.

Gabriel and Ben finished reloading, then reached up and shot their pistol; their muskets were on the other side, leaning against a tree.

They dropped their head back down as the other men took their turns at the Redcoats.

"Who the hell fired?!" Ben shouted angrily as he hurried to reload. I reloaded and took aim again, then pulled the trigger, taking a Redcoat out.

"I did!" I shouted back at him, ducking down further and closing my eyes as we were targeted again. They reached up and fired as before, each hitting a redcoat.

"Care to explain?" Gabriel asked more calmly than Ben, who was shooting glares at me.

"One word: sniper." Already reloaded, I took aim, fired, and then dropped back down. "One of the Redcoats had taken position behind the wagon and was about to shoot you, Ben. I did the only thing I could think of. Missed the bloody bugger though." Another volley aimed at us. "Bloody hell guys, give it up!" I shouted over my shoulder at the Redcoats.

"I don't think they're going to listen," Ben comment dryly. "So anybody have a plan to get out of this?"

"My plan of lying here pissing myself seems to be working mighty fine, thank you," I growled as we were shot at again.

"What we need is a distraction so you and I can reach the muskets," Gabriel said to Ben, wincing at the impact of more bullets. _Is it just me or are we slowly loosing our cover?_

Just then Occam ran forward and dived in next to us. I fired again and glanced at Gabriel, a smile forming on my lips. "A distraction? Well why the hell did you say so?"

Quickly, I stood up and ran back to where the horses were tethered, bullets missing me by millimeters. As I ran I heard Occam comment, "He's smiling."

Then Gabriel replied, "Never a good thing."

"This ought to be interesting," Ben added taking another shot.

As soon as I reached the safety of tree cover, I dropped my gun, dug around in my backpack attached to the saddle, and threw the holsters to my four revolvers around my waist and chest in perfect range to grab them. I threw my brown jacket over said guns and, vaulting into the saddle, I grabbed the reigns and maneuvered Lainathiel so she was facing the battle. _Here goes nothing,_ I thought as I kicked her into motion.

The Redcoats had formed a line around the wagon, pushing their way forward at a steady pace toward the woods and militia. When they turned their attention to the trees, I saw their faces form stunned expressions as I explode from the dense woodlands on horseback at a full gallop, heading straight at Ben, Gabriel and Occam. At the last second I leapt over the log, flying through the air like a bird on the wing. Behind me I heard shouts as Ben and Gabriel made a mad-dash to the other side, ordering the men to cover me as I created the distraction.

Sailing over the log, my horse hit the ground running, shocking the Redcoats even more as I threw the reigns in-between my teeth, drew the two revolvers from my hip holsters, and started firing at them. Four, five were down before they could even react. Angrily, they trained their guns on me and started to fire back, but they couldn't draw a bead, I was moving too fast and sporadically. Two more came down before I finally got coverage from the surrounding woods, taking about ten out. I wasn't even aiming either, just kind of shooting the guns off in a general direction.

I force Lainathiel forward, riding hard through their lines so they have no choice but to scatter or get run over. More fell from the volley of militia and my pistols, their separation helping us out more than them.

As I reached the end of the supply train, I turned Lainathiel back around to start heading at the Redcoats again, who had formed an impenetrable line up towards the front when a sound from behind me indicated something was coming. It was horses, and by the sounds of it, there were a lot. Looking around the bend, I saw His Majesty's Green Dragoons burst from under the tree cover, heading straight down the road and toward the militia. Muttering an oath that would have made a sailor cringe, I whipped Lainathiel around and kicked her back toward the line of Redcoats, taking the last three out with my revolvers.

"Dragoons! Run!" I shouted, urging my horse faster. As soon as my proclamation was heard, the men hiding in the woods to the right, tore out from their hiding places and ran to their horses along with Ben, Gabriel and Occam. Hearing the Dragoons coming ever closer, the relation that the men would be too slow to outrun them hit me like a brick wall. There was no way they would make it, unless there was some kind of intervention to slow the British down. Grinding my teeth and vowing that I would do some serious ass-kicking later, I whorled Lainathiel around and forced her back toward the Dragoons, tearing the ribbon from my hair so it flew freely behind me.

With a determined expression clouding my features, I waited until the Dragoons came tearing around the curve of the road before I launched Lainathiel into the air on her hunches, hooves flailing outward. Drawing one gun from my chest holster, I raised it in the air and let out two shots of warning, scaring the Dragoon's horses into stopping. Tavington took one look out me as he tried to control his horse, his bearskin hat snug on his head, before he glared at me with rage and frustration.

Allowing Lainathiel to fall back down I shouted, "Come and get me, Ass-Wipe!" before I sent her into the woods, praying that Tavington would take the bait and come after me instead of the fleeing soldiers. I never even looked back to see if the men had made it out; I only hoped that they did.

The defining crunch of broken sticks signaled to me that they had and a shout from Tavington to not let me escape told me he had come after me personally. Yippy.

I scrunched down further in the saddle to avoid both low braches as we raced around trees and stumps and to decrease any wind resistance, giving Lainathiel that extra 'oomph.'

"Come on, girl! Faster!" I urged my horse in desperation as I sensed the men closing in, the cold air wiping against my face painfully. A branch caught my face and I felt a needle sharp pain grace my cheek and the warm feeling of blood leaving a red trail down the skin.

Suddenly we left the shadowed wood and rushed into the bright sunlight. Squinting, I saw ahead the drop-off of a cliff face and pulled back sharply on the reigns, forcing Lainathiel to skid to a stop before we went ass-over-teakettle down the precipice. I glanced over the edge at the leave strewn ground and dense tree coverage as she came to a stop at the lip. It wasn't a large drop, only about fifteen feet, but it was enough that if I had forced her to jump, she would have broken her legs and probably her neck, leaving me in no better condition. The crack of branches forced me back into reality and I did the only thing I could do. I kicked Lainathiel back into a run along the lip of the rock-face and away from the Dragoons.

I heard the shout behind me, signaling to me that the Dragoons had found the ledge. With my heart pounding in my throat, I started to pray for God to please get me out of this. Unfortunately my prayers went unanswered when I saw the end of the edge up ahead, ending in what was no doubt another large drop-off. With Tavington closing in behind me, the ledge in front, and the thick brambles to the left, I knew I was trapped. And this time, there was no way out.

* * *

**Dun Dun Duhhhhhhh!!! What will happen to her? Does she even stand a chance? Just stay tuned.**

**Now, I'm going to go study for the statewide Laint Poetry Contest I'm in on Wednesday. Wish me luck!**

**Oh, and I totally forgot to put this, thank you to b2 for reminding me. The end chase scene with the leaping over the log bit was an idea that I got from _American Outlaws, _so techneciaclly it isn't mine. Thanks b2!**


	22. Chapter 22: The Capture

**I want to thank everyone for their wishes of good luck for my poetry contest. Unfortunately I didn't place, but the other two girl who competed from my school got bronze for Latin and gold for Greek, so I'm happy for them. Onward to the next chapter!**

**_Disclaimer: Ok, I'm the kind of person who adds movie quote/references without even knowing I'm doing it, so this is just a general disclaimer that if you see something you recognize from anything other than the Patriot, I don't own it and am simply using it. So please, don't sue me._**

**Chapter quote: **"The Dragoons, they killed Hawkins."**

* * *

**

**Chapter 21: The Capture**

I stared over the edge of the cliff, not really seeing anything as I heard the men come barreling up and skid to a stop behind me. The jingle of the harnesses and bridals was an ominous forecast for things to come as the sounds echoed around me. I raised my chin upwards to watch the white, puffy clouds of a winter's sky roll across the great expanse above the woods, swamps, and fields of South Carolina. Fate had finally caught up with me, but I'd be damned if I didn't put up a fight.

I swung Lainathiel around, turning our backs to the wind and slowly sinking sun as I bravely stood against Tavington and his men. I may have seemed defiant, but inside I was shaking in mortal fear.

The men fanned out on all sides as much as they could, forming a horseshoe around me and preventing any chance I may have had of escape. Not that I was going to run anyway.

My long, chestnut hair was blowing all around the front of my face, sticking to the blood on my cheek, but I ignored it all as I glared at the man who had caused so much pain. We stayed that way for several seconds before he lightly kicked his horse forward, walking within ten feet of me, his hand poised arrogantly on his hip.

"Well, well, well, it seems we meet again," he smirked, a predatory glint in his eye; he was a hunter who had finally caught the elusive prey. Raising my chin regally higher, I continued to glare at him, narrowing my eyes in distain. "What? No retort. I do believe that's a first," he remarked in a mocking show of being shocked.

"Oh, if you want a retort, I'll give you a retort," I snarled through clenched teeth.

He lifted the side of his mouth in an amused smirk, his blue eyes like shards of glass. "That won't be necessary. Drop your weapons; you are under arrest—"

"Oh really? And here I thought you were just being overly friendly," I clucked as I flipped out two revolvers, pointing them both at Tavington. I had to smile as he lost his smirk and openly glared at me in contempt. I don't think he liked being interrupted. All around us, the other Dragoons drew their pistols or muskets and had them pointed at me.

"Interrupt me again, and you be facing something far worse than originally planned." _Yep, didn't think so._ Tavington pulled out his own pistol, a little more slowly than everyone else as if he was a making a show of it, and pointed it at me. "Now, I will tell you again. Drop your weapons!"

"Well, you see," I began, shifting in the saddle in a more relaxed and comfortable state. "That puts us at a bit of a problem now, doesn't it?"

Tavington cocked an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Well, first off, I'm a naturally sarcastic person who has to have an input in everything and secondly." I had to smile as Tavington's jaw clenched in frustration. "I'm disinclined to acquiesce your request, which means . . . we're in a good ol' fashioned Mexican standoff, savvy?"

The cocking of hammers echoed all around me as the men prepared to fire if I did not obey the orders conveyed. I tore my eyes from their colonel and looked at each and every one of the Dragoons present, staring at them hard until they dropped their eyes.

"You will do as I say, or you will die."

I flicked my eyes back to Tavington, warm amber against ice blue, and measured him up. He would do it and so would all the other men. No longer did I have any choice in the matter or any more control. I hated that. Slowly and with clenched teeth, I moved my arms out to the sides and dropped my guns so they each landed parallel to Lainathiel. _I have just signed over my freedom to Tavington. _

With a nod to some soldiers, two men dismounted behind Tavington and stalked over to me. I watched the men coming ever closer, but I turned a glare back to Tavington as I was ripped, not pulled, ripped from the saddle. I let out a cry of outrage at being so man-handled and started to fight against my captors as they dragged me toward the Colonel. You know, kicking, biting, scratching, screaming, pretty much all the components of a cat fight. They may have been apprehending me, but I sure as hell was going to make them remember it. Even Lainathiel put up a fight as another dragoon ran forward to grab her reigns. She let out a squeal and shied away from him, pawing the ground to let everyone know of her agitation. Her cries made me fight even harder, like a mother would to protect her young. Remember, no one touches my horse but me!

A loud gun shot stopped my struggle at once. I lifted my head up and saw Tavington holster his pistol where wisps of smoke still circled out of the barrel. "If you're quite done, we need to move out quickly," he said calmly, but with restrained annoyance.

In my momentary lapse of resistance, my hands were swiftly yanked behind my back and my wrists bound together with coarse rope that already burned my skin.

"Retch!" I screamed as I was dragged closer to the Colonel. "You empty headed animal food trough wiper! Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!" I know, not exactly the best curses in the world, but I was beyond rational reasoning at that point.

This time Tavington grabbed a pistol from Captain Bordon, who had ridden up, and pointed it at me . . . again. "You will cease your struggle and close your mouth this instant or I _will_ kill you. Do you understand?" I bit down on my lip to stop another nasty string of curses and nodded my head angrily. "Good."

He threw the gun back to Bordon then reached down and, with surprising strength, hauled me into the saddle in front of him, wrapping a vise like grip around my waist. He maneuvered his horse around to face his legion. "Captain Wilkins," he called.

"Sir!" The same James Wilkins I remembered from the assembly rode forward.

"You will lead the men back to camp and wait for me there. Bring the fugitive's horse back with you and put her things in my tent," Tavington ordered.

"Yes, Sir."

"Bordon, Mathews, Lawrence and Collins with me. We're taking a trip to Fort Carolina." This time I didn't hide the groan.

* * *

Militia's POV 

They rode as hard and as fast as their horses could, not stopping for one moment for fear that they would be caught. They could hear the dragoons fighting their way through the underbrush after them. In the distant a gun shot was heard, forcing the men to urge their horses faster. It wasn't until the sounds of their pursuers faded off into the distance that they finally reigned their horses in, cheering that they had lost the King's elite Calvary in such a short amount of time.

They didn't wallow in their glory, however, and set off back for camp at a hurried, but relaxed pace. It wasn't until they were back and were taking a head count that Gabriel and Ben realized something was very wrong. Where were Occam and Stephanie?

"Gabriel, have you seen Hawkins?" Ben asked, trying to not show the alarm that was beginning to grow in his belly as he searched among the faces. Where was that girl?

"No, I haven't. I thought she was riding with you," Gabriel responded, looking around in a circle for her. Stephanie was always a dare-devil and getting into trouble, but she was always there for the headcount after a raid. She knew how important it was; it wasn't like her to disappear.

"And I thought she was riding next to you." Ben ran a hand down his face in annoyance.

Motioning to Gabriel with his head, Ben sent him to investigate while he made his way up to Villeneuve, whom he had put in charge. Only a few minor arguments had occurred while they were on the raid, but other than that there was no trouble. It relieved Ben that many of the men had begun giving up their old prejudices and were learning to fight together as one unit.

The knot in his stomach was growing worse as time went on and there was no sign of either the slave or his foster daughter. _No, my daughter,_ he thought. Wait, wasn't she going to Charlotte's for the week. She must have gone that way, but wouldn't she have told him or Gabriel? _It's Stephanie,_ his mind told him. _She does what she wants without regard to anyone else._ He would have to have a talk with her when she came back.

Ben went and started to pour over some maps that were found in Cornwallis's wagon, adding a black spot to the area they had covered today. Suddenly a commotion broke Ben's concentration and convinced him to go see what the problem was. _Maybe Stephanie was back._ But something told him the news wasn't good when Occam came running forward with Gabriel hot on his tail behind him. No, something was terribly wrong.

"Ben, the Dragoons, they—" Occam panted, trying to relay what he had seen, but also trying to get desperate air into his chest.

"Whoa, slow down, Occam. What about the dragoons?" Ben asked, grabbing Occam's shoulders and leading him to sit by one of the camp fires.

"The Dragoons, they killed Hawkins."

At first, Ben didn't understand what Occam had said at first. He just sat there, staring dumbly at him. No, he couldn't believe it, he didn't _want_ to believe it, but the sincerity in the slave's face told him the horrible report was true. Ben stood up, not being able to sit. _Stephanie_. The girl, who had literally fallen into his life and the lives of his children, was gone; torn away from him in a time completely foreign to her own.

Ben looked down and saw his hands were shaking and the overwhelming feeling to cry, scream, and hit was clawing to be released, but he remained enough control to keep it hidden.

"How do you know?" Gabriel choked out, also not believing that Stephanie was gone. _His sister._ Yes, that's what he thought of her as, his sister. Like Margaret or Susan, she had supported him and been there for him in everything. She had calmed his temper in Charles Town, she had given him hope during his campaign in the north, and she had risked her life to save him and his siblings. He owed her so much.

"I saw him confront the Dragoons as they came around the bend on the road," Occam began, also feeling the loss of so great a fighter. Hawkins had treated him with respect when no one else had because of his station in life. "Ran right up to them on that horse a his. He stopped them dead with his pistol and drew many of them off into the woods, giving us that extra time to escape. We own our life to him."

"Her," Ben spoke. All of the men in the militia had gathered around their commander and had heard the tale of one of their youngest members fall in battle. When Ben spoke the men all turned their attention to him.

"Sir?" Occam asked.

Ben sighed and turned around, facing everyone as his heart broke for the fourth time in his life. "I said 'Her.' Hawkins wasn't a sixteen year old boy, but a twenty-one year old girl. No, a twenty-one year old woman. Her real name is," he faltered for a moment. "Was Stephanie and she was also my foster daughter." The men were shocked, although for some they weren't surprised. They had seen the signs, but only through Ben's proclamation did the pieces finally fit together. "What happened after?"

Gabriel saw the look on his father's face and knew Ben was feeling the same as him. Anger, grief, pain, sadness, and was slowly becoming very numb.

Occam licked his lips, looking between his commander and Gabriel. "Well, Sir, I heard a gunshot only a few minutes after everyone had left. I had tripped on my way to the horse and had taken shelter behind a log; the British, luckily, didn't see me. I waited a few minutes after the shot, not knowing where the soldiers were when the Dragoons came riding outta the woods with Hawkins's horse tethered behind them. He—she, wasn't in sight."

Ben closed his eyes, but remembered his station and glanced at the men, whose concentration was so riveted on him. His attention was drawn pass the men to the other side of the island where a tent stood empty, the bedroll and some other personal effects still thrown around.

Without a word he brushed passed everyone and over to the campsite, falling to his knees before the little shelter. He could still feel her presence and smell that honey soap she insisted on. He tried to warn her that it would give her away, but her stubborn nature refused to listen to him. What he wouldn't give to have her back, arguing with him while trying to get her way.

It was only hours ago that the same spark of rebellion had entered her eyes during the raid. When he saw her charge all those Redcoats he was so proud at her courage and fortitude to create a distraction and save their lives. And then she had charged the Dragoons and the very men who had robbed them of their home and Thomas. He had been so afraid that she was going to die all those weeks ago and now she had. She had left him alone when she joked that only another 'cosmic power' could take her away.

A silent tear fell from his eyes and unto the blanket he had subconsciously drawn unto his lap, cradling it like he would her if only she was in his arms. He loved her like a father would a daughter and never got to tell her that. To tell her he was planning to adopt her, give her the name of Martin. To give her a family.

Gabriel walked up to his father, feeling the raw grief emanate for his form. How much could Ben take? First his parents, then his wife, Thomas and now Stephanie. Gabriel knew his father was strong, but no one could hold that much on their shoulders.

"Well make them pay, Father."

"Yes, we will." Ben's voice, although horse, was strong and deadly. "For Thomas and for Stephanie." He turned to his son. "We will not have let them die in vain." _Tavington will be next._

_

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**Little change of pace here with the Militia POV. I figured it would be an interesting insight and there will be times when I do add in different POVs. Was it too much though? I hope this chapter was up to everyone's expectations!**

**And as a bit of a bribe, if I make it to 100 reviews, I'll post the next chapter early. So get crackin'**


	23. Chapter 23: The Beginning

**Yay!! 100 reviews! It's a really great feeling to cross that threshold. Thanks to Cecily Cardew who added that last reviw. But anyway, new early chapter!**

**Chapter quote: **"However, based on your conduct and the evidence given to me by Colonel Tavington, I have no choice but to charge you with treason against His Majesty, King George III."

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**Chapter 22: The Beginning**

We rode hard for the next hour, never slowing or stopping for any reason. I could tell that the horses were use to this treatment; they never once faltered in step nor did froth begin to accumulate around their bits. This was normal for them.

After a while, I tired shifting around to a more comfortable place in the saddle. Since I had my arms tied behind my back and was riding side-saddle, there wasn't much on the comfortable side of things. Add in the vice grip around my waist and arms, that tightened even more as I moved, and we have all sorts of fun.

"Yo, any chance you can loosen up a bit there, Sparky? I kind of need to breathe," I shouted over the pounding hooves to my captor. Tavington growled, but relaxed his hold only enough for me to get about a centimeter more air into my lungs. "Yea, thanks," I muttered darkly.

As the day began to come to a close, and the sky turned from blue to a beautiful pale orange and pink, Fort Carolina came into sight. It was a large, overly large in my opinion, brick manor house set on a hill with a massive wooden wall surrounding the perimeter. From the angle we were riding, the area was very symmetrical with two flags at the farthest ends, two small buildings inside the flags, and the manor house in the center. As we came closer, large ramparts and sharpened logs were set strategically around the bass of the wall in case of attack or siege. The gates were opened for us when the British soldiers, patrolling the perimeter, saw the Dragoon flag waving in the breeze.

Tavington and his men led the horses into the courtyard at front of the house and dismounted, dragging me down along with them, while grooms ran up to hold the horses for us. Quickly my hands were untied, the holsters from around my waist and chest removed, and, while the four men stood by their horses conversing with the grooms, Tavington dragged me to the door and into the estate. His grip on my arm increased as we neared the house to the point where I winced because his fingers were imbedding themselves into my skin.

"Oh, so sorry," Tavington said, slacking his hold.

"Yea, I _bet_ you are," I mumbled under my breath.

"What was that?" he asked in a sneer, pulling me up the wooden stairs and onto the second story of the house.

"Nothing," I replied curtly. Tavington scowled and then trust a white cloth into my hand.

"Clean that cheek of yours. We don't want blood to drip onto his Lordships rugs."

Tavington continued to drag me along, his pace much faster with longer strides than what I was use to as I attempted to wipe the dried and new blood from my cheek. I tried to jerk my arm out of his grip, saying, "I'm not injured, you know. I can walk perfectly well by myself and have done so for the past twenty years." Instead of letting me go, Tavington's grip increased again. _I'm definitely going to have bruises tomorrow._

We continued down the corridor until we came to set of dark wooden double doors with one guard on each side. They were closed to us, but a word from Tavington sent one guard in to tell Cornwallis of our arrival. I stared around at the beautiful furnishings and paintings that adorned the pale yellow walls. A window at the end of the corridor let in the spectrum of colors from the dying sun as it passed beyond our world and into the next.

Although I tried to remain as defiant and nonchalant about the whole ordeal, inside my guts were twisting like snakes over a fire. I was scared, more scared than I ever had been, even when I first arrived in the 18th century. For once, the fate of my life was no longer in my hands, but in others. That scared me even more. Would they kill me? Hang me for treason or spying? Would they torture me to get the whereabouts of the camp, or who the Ghost was? I'm not adverse to pain, but could I really endure torture? After all, this was the Butcher and the movie never said anything about his form of interrogation. Many more questions were spinning around my mind at such a rate, I barely noticed when the guard came out and said Cornwallis and O'Hara would see us.

A jerk from Tavington brought me back to reality. Squaring my shoulders and shoving the handkerchief into my pocket, I raised my chin, erasing all emotions from my face and walked as regally as I could into the room. If I was not so focused on how I was going to escape, I would have been in awe over the grandeur of the room. Although it was large with not that much furniture, it was still a beautiful room with blue walls, rich, dark furniture, gold filigree mirrors and paintings, dark wooden floors with a huge fireplace adorning one wall. The room was magnificent.

In front of the fireplace stood Cornwallis and General O'Hara, both looking as pompous as I remembered them. They stared as me and Tavington in a mixture of confusion, distain, anger, and rigid determination as we walked up to the desk that was a barrier between us.

"My Lord General, I have just apprehended a spy and member of the Ghost's militia," Tavington began, throwing me forward. I stopped myself before crashing into the desk, but the movement hurt my already sore shoulders and forced my hair in front of my face, blocking out all images. I felt a bit like cousin It for a moment. Flipping the hair out of my face like a Baywatch model, I righted myself and glared coldly at the men in front of me as Tavington walked over to the side.

"Colonel, this is a woman," O'Hara began, looking at me in amazement. "She cannot be held as a spy, nor would she be in the Ghost's militia." _Never thought I would be happy to hear O'Hara speak,_ I thought to myself. I turned my gaze to Cornwallis who was staring at me in bewilderment, as if he knew me but couldn't place where.

"In normal circumstances I would agree with you, General," Tavington consented, stepping forward. I couldn't help but snort. _Yea, you agreeing with O'Hara? Not happening in this lifetime._ Tavington sent a glare towards me, warning me with his eyes to stay quiet. "However," he continued. "I found her in the middle of a skirmish with our supply train. I do believe I saw her kill many of those valiant men—"

"You saw nothing of the sort," I retorted back, glaring at Tavington. "You didn't even come around the corner until the last Redcoat was dead, so don't give me that bullshit." Only after my outburst did I realize what I had said. _Shit._

"You see, My Lord, she confesses." Tavington had a prideful smirk on his face as he turned to the other two gentlemen. O'Hara was opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water and Cornwallis's brows were drawn over his eyes.

"Miss Turner?" Cornwallis finally voiced.

I looked back at him. "E-excuse me?" I asked, trying to brush it off by looking confused. _Crap, he does recognize me._ Out of the corner of my eyes I saw Tavington scrutinize my appearance. I shook my head to force my hair to block that side of my face.

"What is your name?" Cornwallis asked.

"Hawkins, Sir."

"First name?"

"I think my last will suffice for now."

A flash of admiration entered the Lord General's eyes, but was gone in seconds. "Forgive me; I thought you were someone else. Now tell me, do you deny these accusations of spying and treason, Miss Hawkins?" He asked, walking over to the desk on the other side of the room.

"Well, seeing as the Colonel has no proof of any espionage on my part, I think that matter is settled, but as for treason, then yes I do. I have not committed any treasonous acts that warrant my capture and incarceration."

"You were found at the scene; you ran up and attacked my men, and have been procuring information from British soldiers for months. Does that not warrant treason?!" Tavington stormed, taking a step toward me.

"Colonel, stand down at once!" Cornwallis admonished. Jaw clenched so hard the muscles in his cheeked moved, Colonel Tavington stepped back a few paces, not taking his eyes off of me.

"Sir, I have not committed treason." I returned my attention back to Cornwallis. "The definition of treason is when a citizen commits a crime against their home country, is it not?"

"This has no releva—"

"Colonel Tavington, would you shut up and go back to Neverland!" I snapped. To say everyone was taken aback would be an understatement.

"Miss Hawkins, this is an interrogation and you _will_ treat my officers with respect, is that clear?"

I sighed, as if I was doing _them_ a favor. "Crystal. Now please, answer my question."

Cornwallis sighed, moving back to sit down behind his desk. "Yes, that is the simple definition of treason."

"Well then I have not committed any treasonous acts for I am not a citizen of the British Empire, savvy?" I smiled.

"You are not a citizen?" O'Hara asked, not quite removing the smile that had come to his lips from my outburst at Tavington.

"Nope. Never have been and never will be."

"She still has attacked British soldiers and was captured fleeing with the Ghost's militia, My Lord," Tavington tried again.

"Silence, Colonel, while I consider this new information!" Cornwallis barked. _That shut him up_, I thought with a smirk as I glanced at a very irate Colonel. Cornwallis flicked his eyes back to me. "If you are not a citizen of Britain, than what country do you belong to?"

I couldn't help smiling like a Cheshire cat. "The United States of America. Sir." All at once the atmosphere in the room darkened. Cornwallis turned a very interesting shade of red while O'Hara blanched. The only one seemingly unaffected was Tavington. He continued to glare at me, but I saw no surprise or anger on his face.

Cornwallis stood up slowly, puffing out his chest like a peacock and glaring at me through his small brown eyes. "You are treading on dangerous ground, Miss Hawkins," Cornwallis said in a soft, but deadly voice. For one moment I feared I had taken things too far. "As to the charge against espionage, I have no evidence to find you guilty." I breathed out a sigh of relief. "However, based on your conduct and the evidence given to me by Colonel Tavington, I have no choice but to charge you with treason against His Majesty, King George III."

"What?! By I haven't—" Cornwallis held up his hand for silence and from the look in his eye, I knew my cooperation could be the only thing to save my neck, probably literally.

Cornwallis shuffled some papers on his desk until he found a clean sheet and began to write some things down. "Seeing as you are a woman, you will not be executed." _Yet,_ I thought dryly. "But you remain as a British hostage until you are deemed worthy to be released or you give valuable information concerning the Ghost." I snorted. _Yea, like that's going to happen._ Cornwallis sent another glare at me. "Until that time you will be under Colonel Tavington's protection and surveillance at the Dragoon camp and—"

"My Lord, I must protest," Tavington interrupted, stepping forward.

"Yea, for once I'm with him," I jerked my head at Tavington. "Really, do you want me hanging around him all day?" Tavington glowered, but since we were united on this he kept quiet.

Cornwallis glared between the two of us while General O'Hara looked on quietly in the background; a smirk on his face from Tavington's unhappiness. You know, I'm not a fan of him either, but I still wanted to go over there and smack the man across the face. "You are the one who took her into custody, therefore, you are the man to deal with her. Get whatever information you can and then leave her until I decide the next course of action." Cornwallis stood up and handed several papers to Tavington.

"Sir, in all do respect—"

"That is an order, Colonel." Tavington clenched his jaw again but took the papers. "When you reach your camp, make sure she is give proper quarters, food rations and is properly protected. She is a woman, after all."

During their conversation I was a bit indignant at being spoken about as if I was not present, but the sexist comment from Cornwallis nearly sent me over the edge. Only because he wasn't going to kill me did I keep my mouth shut.

"Yes, Sir."

"Good, you and Miss Hawkins are dismissed."

Tavington bowed to Cornwallis, barely sparing O'Hara a glanced before he grabbed my upper arm again and pulled me out behind him. As soon as we reached the stairs where no more Redcoats were in sight, I pulled the same trick I had with Gabriel: spinning my arm around so he had to either let me go or break his wrist.

"As I told you before, I am quite capable of walking on my own," I said, turning my back on him and descending the stairs.

I should have expected it, but before I could move from the first step to the second step, I found myself pinned against the wall of the stairs with Tavington in front of me, staring daggers at me with such ferocity it took my breath away. "I will tell you this once, and only once," he growled. "Never lie to me. You were at the ball, weren't you, _Miss Turner_?"

"And what if I was? I don't see how any of it is your business," I shot back.

"You'll find I make things my business."

I laughed. "Does that line make you feel better about yourself, 'cause it's doing nothin' for me."

Tavington practically barred his teeth and, using his body, pushed me even further against the wall, the wooden moldings digging into my back. "I am not a man to be trifled with."

It was my turn to shoot daggers as pain raced along my back. "Trifled, no; harassed, maybe, but do me a favor and let me go."

Another silent battle waged between us. "How is it you don't fear me?" Tavington asked after a few moments.

"How?" I stared at him incredulously. "Simple. You're nothing but a coward with a heart full of fear."

His grip on my arms tightened even more. "I would not say such things if I were you," he stressed.

"And why not? The colonists are paying the ultimate price for something they believe in, truly believe in, and yet you keep trying to break that. Well you can't break them, no matter how much you try and you could never understand it until you've paid the price yourself. And when I say you are a coward, it's because you are the slimiest weakling _ever_ to crawl the earth."

Instead of hurting more like I was expecting, the Colonel surprised me again by shoving back away from me, his face an impenetrable mask. It was as if his entire stance was carved from marble. "Move. Now," was all he said, and I had to strain to hear it.

For once, I didn't question him, but sailed down the steps and practically ran to the door. Night had finally fallen when I stepped outside, a cold wind blowing my long hair around my face. I stared out across the black expanse, unable to distinguish anything beyond the ten foot barrier.

I turned around as Tavington walked out, pulling his black, leather gloves tighter on his hands. The look in his eyes was undistinguishable, but potent enough that I could not hold his gaze; turning my head away and watching the moon rise above the land. _And so it begins._

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**OOOO boy, now she's stuck with Tavington. The fun begins!!! Review!**


	24. Chapter 24: Everyone But Me

**Chapter quote: **"Nothing is ever fair, Miss Hawkins. The sooner you learn that, the better off you will be."**

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**Chapter 23: Everyone But Me**

The Dragoon camp was situated only a mile east of Fort Carolina, tucked against a river on one side and a forest to the left. As we approached the glowing city of amber colored tents, the first traces of fear and doubt started to creep into the under layers of my mind. Up until that moment, there was still a chance, however small it may have been, of escape, but as the horses plodded their way past the first row of tents, that chance evaporated.

There were at least a hundred, if not more, tents lined up in perfect rows. Riding in front of Tavington allowed me a perfect view of the area. Among the tents there were many camping fires and small little communion areas where Redcoats in all shapes and sized walked about leisurely, talking with their neighbors. That is, until they saw the Colonel.

It was almost as if the clouds of Mordor had swept over the encampment. A hush fell and many of the men stopped whatever they were doing to watch the procession of me, the Colonel, Bordon and the other men who had accompanied us to Fort Carolina. I was tempted to say 'take a picture; it'll last longer,' but I bit lip to stop the words from issuing from my mouth. Last thing I needed was to make the Colonel angrier than he already was. I didn't even yell at him for man-handling me so when we were riding back.

"It looks as if your men fear you," I commented after one soldier turned and practically ran away.

"Everyone fears me," Tavington responded, sounding annoyed by my statement.

"Everyone _but_ me."

In the center of the encampment stood one of the largest tents. It was made of the same sturdy canvas as the regular soldiers' tents, but this one was more rectangular shaped and the ceiling looked to be a good deal higher. Like the coliseum in Rome, all the roads seemed to jet away from it like the wheels on a spoke. _Great, his arrogance knows no bounds,_ I thought as I dismounted after the Colonel. My feet had barely touched the ground before I was grabbed and thrust through the flap and into the main area of the tent.

Inside, the canvas was stretched taunt with wooden posts making up the frame while lit candles turned the material a dark shade of yellow. One large table with several chairs sat on a large red rug that covered the grass and dirt of the field. To one side stood a desk and chair, papers littering over it while several trunks stood to the other side. A separate piece of canvas at the far end of the tent separated the main area from another, smaller room. I could only deduce this was where the Colonel slept.

As I glanced around at my new surroundings, I noticed off to the side were my saddle, saddle bags, and backpack propped up against one of the old, wooden trunks. I made a grab toward them, but a hand around me waist brought me back against the hard chest of someone. I almost cursed when I heard Tavington whisper in my ear, "Everyone fears me . . . even you."

"Ok, there's a little thing called a personal bubble. You're in mine. Get out," I sneered, trying to wriggle my way out, but stopping because of the close proximity Tavington was to me. _Not good, really not good!_

He spun me around, forcing the front of my body to press up to his as he gripped my arms in his steel hold. I could feel the heat of his body slowly seep into mine while the same smell of horses and pine mingled in the air between us. "You better watch that sharp tongue of yours, _Miss_ Hawkins."

"You're right. I must make sure to keep it sharpened," I mocked sarcastically. With a growl, he threw me back into the waiting arms of a Redcoat. He was a bear of a man who practically lifted me off the ground as he restrained me, pinning my arms to my side.

Tavington head cocked to the side, looking beyond me. "Now, why were you so determined to get to your bags, I wonder?" he asked, brushing past us and picking up the saddle bags and backpack.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because they're _mine._ That seems a good enough reason as any," I remarked, my eyes narrowed in anger.

"Well let's see if there is any other reason, shall we?" He picked up my bags and transferred them to the table. The saddle bags only held a few clothing items of the 18th century nature and some other personal effects that wasn't very conspicuous. However, there were some items that seemed to hold special interest for Tavington.

"Let's see, pistols that have no powder or musket balls." He fingered a creamy shirt. "Clothing that is tattered at best." He then held up the large dagger that Gabriel had given to me and unsheathed part of it, letting the steel sparkle from the candles. _Dear God, he cannot say it._ "And here I had expected it to be made of wood." _Omg, he did._ "You are without a doubt the worst rebel I have ever heard of."

No amount of willpower could stop me from saying, "But you have heard of me."

He gave me a glare and packed all the 18th century stuff away, except for the dagger which he took for his own person. No, all of my 21st century attire and items were packed in my backpack, something he could not get into when he pulled my backpack over. I had to bit my lip painfully to stop from laughing at his perplexed expression when he saw the zipper keeping the bag closed. First he tried to pull it apart, but when that didn't work he tried to shake it. That didn't have the desired effect he wanted as well and I could see him beginning to become frustrated.

"How do you even get into this damn thing," he barked, dropping the bag down on the table in defeat.

I couldn't help myself. "Magic."

I think I'm a sucker for pain for the next moment my hands were grabbed and tied roughly behind me again while I was thrown into a corner where my tied hands were then secured to one of the supporting posts. "What are you doing?!" I practically shouted.

"Something I should have done long ago. Until appropriate accommodations can be established," Tavington attested, leaving my items and walking over to his desk while removing his black gloves and dropping them on the surface in defeat. "You will remain here where I can keep an eye on you." As soon as the soldier was done, he left the tent without a word.

"Yea, ok, fine," I pleaded with the man's back but he never turned around. "But must I be restrained. You're supposed to be giving me proper 'quarter' or whatever it's called. I don't think this qualifies." I jumped in a very Jack Sparrow like way, trying to emphasize my point.

"That may be true, but General Cornwallis does not know what you're capable of. I do. You will remain tied until I decide to release you." He turned his back on me and poured himself a brandy from a jug on his desk.

"But that's not fair!"

He spun back around, a wooden goblet cupped in his hand. "Nothing is ever fair, Miss Hawkins. The sooner you learn that, the better off you will be," he snarled as he took a sip.

"Everything is fair. We just have to make it that way."

"That is a foolish notion. No one has that kind of power, Miss Hawkins—"

"Stephanie."

He stopped. "What?"

I rolled my eyes. "My name. It's Stephanie, not 'Miss Hawkins.' That's way too formal."

He pierced his lips, creating a thin white line. "I have warned you, _Miss Hawkins,_ to not interrupt me. Do not do it again."

I sighed, dropping my head down where my chin hit my chest. The pain in my wrists and shoulders began to become unbearable. The entire time Tavington and I were speaking I was twisting my wrists around, trying to free my hands from their imprisonment, but the coarse rope bit into my skin painfully to the point where I felt blood beginning to lace down my hands.

Making up my mind I whispered, "Please," almost inaudibly.

"What are you saying now?" Tavington asked impatiently as he struggled out of his red and green jacket.

I brought my head back up. "Please, release me. I give you my word, I won't run away or try to hurt anyone or do anything, just please. Let. Me. GO. . . . It hurts," I ended meekly, ashamed that I had to admit a weakness to the Butcher.

Draping his jacket on the back of a chair, Tavington strolled over to me, crouching down so he was eye level. "I'm supposed to take the word of a Rebel, a Traitor, and a Spy? That's not very convincing." He stood up. "However, I may be persuaded."

Immediately my guard went up. "How?" I asked cautiously.

Tavington shrugged. "Tell me who the Ghost is and I'll release you."

"Yea and you can go ta hell."

With a quick move, Tavington slapped me across the face with such force my head was jerked to the side, the sting of the impact making me forget about my wrists for a moment. "Watch your language. I will not tolerate that kind of talk."

I bit my lip at the pain, but refused to look at him as tears clouded my eyes. I heard him sigh and walk over towards the hanging separator, blowing candles out as he went. At the entrance, he pulled it back, revealing only a cot, a chair and a trunk. "Have a good night, Miss Hawkins. We'll speak more about this tomorrow."

The canvas fell back behind him and I was left alone in the main room, feeling the first traces of tears falling down my cheeks, cooling the sting of the imprint.

"Ben, where are you? Help me," I whispered, hoping he would come sailing through the flap, grab me and run while we laughed at Tavington's retreating form, but nothing happened. The night remained as still as ever. I let out a quiet sob, despair tugging at my heart while more tears left my eyes in steady streams as I pulled my knees up and rested my head on them. _Lord, help me,_ I prayed. And then I wept.

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Tavington POV 

Tavington laid there and listened quietly to the soft sobs echoing through his tent. He didn't think the girl had it in her to cry, she certainly didn't possess many other qualities of the women he'd seen in the Colonies. No, this girl was a hellcat who fought like a demon and cursed like a sailor. He now had a soldier with a black eye and another with two bruised ribs from her attacks. There were no redeeming qualities about a girl who could fight just as well as any man.

And yet he remembered her at the ball only a few weeks ago. The way she danced was like nothing he had ever seen. She moved as a fairy, gliding around the floor in tune to the strange music played by the orchestra, enchanting many, if not all of the men present to see her spectacle. If Tavington wasn't such a rational man, he would have believed her to be a witch or sorceress with the ability to bend men's wills to her own. Even he had fallen into her spell.

When she wished to have nothing to do with him, he should have let her go off on her own, but something inside of him wanted him to chase after her. So he did and he paid the price for his mistake. She was rude and belligerent toward him but he couldn't walk away. The idea of taming her to his will was too over powering. She has to have been a witch for him to want anything to do with her and even getting him to dance!

Tavington scowled as he stared up at the ceiling of his tent, remembering that night. The way her green eyes, like the deep forests in England, had held the emotion of utter bliss had he led her around the floor. He had felt a deep sense of pride to know he had made her so happy, he even thinks her eyes were sparkling as she gazed up at him; spinning around the room like no one else was present.

Wait. Her eyes were green at the ball, but Tavington now recalls that they were a dark brown, like dirt and too common for their own good, when he apprehended her. Did it matter that when she glared at him angrily, they flashed like gold? No, it did not. But how did her eye color change? It perplexed him to no end and Tavington was a man who did not enjoy confusion.

The sounds of the camp slowly faded away, increasing the volume of the sobs. Tavington sighed and rolled over, trying to forget about the girl imprisoned in his tent. This, of all things he didn't need. He would get whatever information he could from her, than be done as quickly as possible. Hopefully it won't be too hard since no one has ever been able to withstand his interrogation methods and this slip of a girl should be no different.

Finally the sounds died away and Tavington was able to relax enough to fall asleep.


	25. Chapter 25: Could It Get Any Worse?

**Well, seeing as today is my birthday, I'm posting early as a gift for you all! Ironically it's the same day as Hitler and Napoleon, which means I can't try to take over Russia anytime soon. Oh well, I'm officially legal now, a.k.a. 18, so now I can now get a tattoo, buy a Latto ticket, and serve jury duty. Oh such wonders ahead of me! **

**Chapter quote: **"Sarcasm is not a very compelling attribute."**

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**Chapter 24: Could It Get Any Worse?**

The next morning, I opened my gritty, burning eyes to the bright sunlight shinning through the partially opened flap and onto my face. I squinted against the blinding light and allowed my legs to be stretched out in front of me, feeling the kinks and cramps in my knees and lower back flex and stretch painfully. I sighed in distress with all the pain and dropped my head back, letting it rest against the wooden post, my hair a frizzled brown mess around my head. The sounds of men awakening could be heard throughout the calm, cold morning as the sun began its succession through the sky. I tested the ropes binding my wrist and almost screamed when a sharp, needle like pain flared through both my arms. I closed my eyes as a dull throb replaced the sting, letting a deep breath out of my lungs.

The flutter of canvas forced my eyes to snap open where they rested on the newly dressed Tavington, running a comb through his dark hair as he braided and tied it back, looking as fierce as ever. Amid large amounts of pain and protest from my body, I sat up a bit straighter and set a glare at him, curling my legs around to give me another inch in height.

At the rustle, Tavington's gaze fixed on me and he frowned, "Already acting defiant, and the sun has barely risen." He dropped the comb back down on the desk after adding some pomade to his hair to keep it impeccable.

"Well, what can I say? I woke up on the wrong side of the post," I snapped back, my mood turned very foul by my lack of sleep and increased aches of my joints.

"I have half a mind to leave you there today," he snapped with equal fervor.

I shrugged as best I could. "Go ahead, but unless you want a mess on you hands, you'd best let me at least _relieve_ myself somewhere that isn't in this vicinity."

That seemed to have done the trick for the next moment Tavington was kneeling next to me, working the knot loose between my hands. I was biting my lip from his sharp tugs on the binding ropes, but when he tried to pull the rope away from my skin, a cry escaped and I yelled, "Christ man, that hurts!"

He stopped and I glanced over, watching as a peculiar expression came across his face, looking something like . . . remorse? No, couldn't be, for the next second it was gone and was replaced by his usual indifference. Being slightly gentler, Tavington pulled the rope away slowly, forcing me to hiss in pain as the bindings were torn out of my skin. As soon as I was free and I saw Tavington throw the rope away in disgust, I scurried back away from him. I pulled my arms forward, wincing from the soreness in my shoulders and examined my wrists.

A dark red band encircled both parts of my body, with dried, brown blood coating the outside rings of the wounds while small rivers of new blood built and coursed down my arm. Different parts of the marks even showed the twisted shape of the rope and splinter like strips of the course material were embedded into my skin. My hands were white from the lack of blood and everything from the middle of my arm down was slowly becoming numb.

"You know, when I said 'it hurts', I wasn't just sayin' it for laughs and giggles," I remarked, pulling the glare from my hands to stare at Tavington. He frowned in response and made to grab my right wrist, but I scooted further back, commanding, "Don't touch me! You've done enough." I cradled my hands against me, trying to keep them from his reach, but not having them touch at the same time.

"If you don't let me see them, I can't help you," Tavington tired, placing what he thought was a reassuring smile on his face. I saw through it in an instant.

"I can take care of this myself. I don't need you." I forced my legs under me and made to stand up, using the sturdiness of the post to add support as my legs screamed in protest.

Tavington stood up in a quick manner as if saying 'I can get up faster than you,' and sent me a glare. "Suit yourself," he shrugged.

Growling inwardly, I straightened my back faster than I should have and tried to walk over to the table, but black spots started popping in front of my eyes. The next second I was lightheaded and my knees gave out, however, instead of crashing to the ground like I was anticipating, I felt myself fall into a pair of strong arms. I tired to move my head, but the quick draining of blood made it impossible for me to see at that moment and I groaned, leaning more unto the buttress supporting me while I closed my eyes. An arm snaked under my legs and I was lifted up, my wrists banging painfully together, and then carried over and deposited in a chair.

I opened my eyes with enough time to see Tavington walk over to the entrance of the tent and yell for Bordon to bring water and bandages. A yell was heard in response and then Tavington stalked over to one of the trunks, kicking it open, and extracting a jar full of some weird, green-colored goo.

Closing my eyes and shaking my head, I tired to zone Tavington out while I thought about my predicament. _Ok, here I am, stuck under guard in the military camp of the man I despise more than anything, injured, in a time I'm not really familiar with and having said man I despise working on my injury . . . could it get any worse?_

The sting of alcohol on my wrists brought me back to reality with a jolt and I jumped, more from shock than pain. Although the pain set in next and I gritted my teeth against the throbbing as Tavington sat across from me on another chair and dabbed at the wounds, trying to clean them appropriately with rum. I watched as he worked, my mind slowly going numb from lack of sleep because, let's face it, I didn't sleep all that well tied to a post. I tired not to yawn as he worked; the cooling feeling of the salve he put on was a relief and then wrapping clean linens around my wrists. He tied the left over material in a knot, a little too tight for my liking, but I refrain from saying anything.

He stood up after he was done, walking over to a basin and washing the blood and goo from his hands. Lowering my eyes I mumbled, "Thank you," almost inaudibly. I raised my eyes to gage his reaction and saw him quirk an eyebrow, walking back over to me, wiping his hands dry on a towel as he went.

"I'm surprised you didn't fight me," he remarked.

"Well, as my Mama used to say, 'I may be independent, but I'm not stupid.'" I half smiled, flexing my wrists against the bandages so I could a feel of how far I could push them, which wasn't that far.

A corner of his mouth lifted up, but fell when Bordon and another dragoon walked into the tent, his attention shifting to them. I turned around, my eyes catching the dark blue orbs of the same redcoat from the Middleton Ball who had helped me off of Lainathiel. He stared at me in shock, recognition crossing his handsome features.

"Captain Bordon," Tavington barked walking over to the stout man. "Has everything been completed as I ordered? And who's this?" He looked from Bordon over to the other man.

"Corporal McDonnough, Colonel," Bordon replied, standing straighter as he stepped forward. "Chosen to guard the prisoner at your request. Everything else is in order."

Tavington smiled. "Excellent."

"Woah, woah, wait, wait," I blurted out, standing up and stomping my way over. "Guard me?" I looked the man up and down from dirty blond hair, big, broad shoulders and at least eight or nine inches taller than me. I turned my attention back to Tavington. "Look, I don't need a babysitter."

His eyes hardened again as I heard Bordon cover up a laugh with a "coughing" fit. Tavington sent a glare at Bordon, and then flicked his eyes back to me. "You will have an escort at all times, no matter what your opinion on the subject may be."

I rolled my eyes, my mind already working for a way to ditch said 'escort' at the opportune moment. "Sure, fine, whatever." I turned and grabbed my back pack and tried to exit the tent, but a forced grip on my arm brought me back.

"Where are you going?!" Tavington growled. I raised an eyebrow at his hand until he let me go.

"To use the loo, or do I have ask permission like I did when I was six?" I asked, crossing my arms in front of me.

"Why do you need that bag? There's no way to get into it."

I smirked. "Correction, _you_ can't to get into it," I pointed to him. "_I_ have absolutely no problem, now can I please go? I'm not a camel, you know." I smiled sweetly which only caused Tavington to scowl even more.

"Captain Bordon, you are dismissed. Corporal McDonnough, wait outside for Miss Hawkins," Tavington ordered, never wavering his gaze from mine. I swallowed, this cannot be good.

As soon as the flap flicked back into place, Tavington grabbed my arm and roughly pulled me till I was flush up against him again, his face inches from mine. _Jeeze! What is it with the pulling and yanking?! _"Miss Hawkins, your insolence astounds me. If you question my command in front of my men again, there will be dire consequences to pay."

"Oh is that all?" I remarked sarcastically, trying vainly to step back away from his overpowering ambiance. He only ripped me back.

"Sarcasm is not a very compelling attribute."

"Well then it's a good thing I'm not trying to be compelling now, isn't it?" I snapped.

His eyes hardened even further. He leaned down, barely whispering in my ear, "Let me warn you now, any attempt to escape will not only result in you're unfortunate punishment when we catch you - and trust me when I say we will - but Corporal McDonnough will suffer as well."

"What does the life of a Redcoat mean to me, Colonel?" I asked, trying for indifference, but the thought of someone else suffering because of me was not sitting very well.

Tavington leaned back. "Not his life, but his blood will be on your hands."

"You wouldn't dare harm one of your own men. Cornwallis wouldn't allow it," I tired to reason, more with myself than with him.

Tavington cocked an eyebrow in amusement. "Cornwallis's arm does not reach this far. You are under my mercy."

Narrowing my eyes, I glared at Tavington with ferocity, my harried emotions adding more fuel to the fire. "You're nothing but a beast," I spat.

"I believe the term is Butcher." He threw me toward the opening, forcing me to stumble as I tried to stop myself from landing on my face. "Remember, you're neck is not the only one on the chopping block, Miss Hawkins," he yelled after me as I stepped out into the sunlight of the mid-morning.

Completely ignoring the soldier standing at the entrance, waiting for me, I stomped forward, heading toward a sheltered part of the river where I could relieve myself, wash my face, and all in all get ready for a day that will more than likely be the day from hell.

"Miss Hawkins, wait!" the Corporal called, running to catch up to my angry strides. I slowed down slightly, but didn't stop, weaving my way around tents and through the camp, gaining strange and some leering looks from many of the men. McDonnough caught up with me quickly, his long legs working over time. Finally, when I reached the northern edge of the camp I stopped and turned to the insanely tall man, dwarfed only by Wilkins. "Please, Miss Hawkins," he panted. "I know the Colonel has ordered me to escort ye—"

"You mean guard me?" I asked, glaring into his midnight-blue eyes.

His own took on a regretful gleam and I immediately felt a pang of shame. "Well, if ye wunna look at it that way. My point is, I dunna wish to just be yer guard. I'm yer escort and know that if ye need anythin', I will help ye as much as I con."

His puppy-dog eyes melted my hard heart; my esteem for him growing rapidly. "Thank you," I replied, softening my features and giving him as much of a smile as I was feeling. "What is your full name?"

"Ian McDonnough."

I nodded, turning around and started to walk more leisurely toward the river's edge. "Ian. Good Scottish name."

He followed me, walking more at my side. "Aye, are ye familiar with Scotland?"

I smiled, nodding my head enthusiastically. "Oh yea, my grandparents were from Scotland."

Ian immediately perked up at that. "Really, where from?"

I screwed my face up, trying to remember what my grandparents always talked about. "Um…. I think Argyll."

"Argyll! My family is from Glasgow, just south o' there."

I smiled, "what a coincidence." Just then we came to a secluded part of the river, protected by a large, dense bush that would no doubt shield me from the rest of the camp. I told Ian to turn around and keep watch. As soon as his back was turned, I ducked back behind the bush and opened my pack, extracting various 21st century items that no doubt would have been questioned heavily.

Quickly I washed my face in the river, careful not to get my bandages too wet, then changed my clothes into blue jeans and a long-sleeved back shirt with a red, flannel cowboy shirt draped over it. I brushed and tied my curly hair up in a pony-tail, glad that I had bathed yesterday before I was planning on going to Charlotte's. After taking my contacts out (like peeling the skin off of your eyes) rinsed them, then put them back in, I did something I would not normally do. I applied a bit of make-up, like I would do before school back in 2006. It wasn't much, just enough to be pretty, but not enough that it would be highly noticeable. I don't know why I did my make-up, but after having to play a man for so long, the chance to finally be me, a normal girl, was too tempting to resist.

After I was done, I stared long and hard at the water thinking. What was I going to do? How in the hell was I going to get out of this predicament? Swinging my legs around, I sat on the cold ground, pulling up the stems of the grasses that lined the riverbed. Life was much simpler when I was with Ben and Gabriel. They were my security blanket, the people I could fall back on if ever I was in trouble. Lord knows Ben and Gabriel had pulled me back when I stretched my neck out too far.

Were they worried about me? Did they even know where I was? Did they even think I was alive? The thought of Ben suffering because of my foolishness was more than I could conceivably bear.

And then my thoughts centered on one thing, the very question I had been asking myself since 1776: why was I here? Did I die and this was some weird type of limbo? Am I supposed to do something, stop something? The scene of the burning church flashed in my head. Am I to stop Tavington from killing all those innocent people? Maybe to stop Tavington from killing Gabriel or Gabriel from killing Bordon? Another thought hit me, one I didn't wish to dwell on, but held reverence all the same. Maybe I'm supposed to save . . . Tavington?

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**Reviews as birthday gifts? Maybe? Just a little bit?**


	26. Chapter 26: Apparently It Can

**Since I am pretty far along in the story **—**Spring Break was last week**—** I'm posting early, and just because I don't want to wait till Saturday. Patience has never been one of my virtues.**

**Chapter quote: **"Somewhere . . . over the rainbow, skies are blue."**

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**Chapter 25: Apparently It Can**

I sat there for what felt like hours, a million and one thoughts running through my head faster than the speed of light. Maybe that was it. Maybe I am supposed to save Colonel Tavington. But . . . _why?_ Why should that horrid, beast of a man deserve to be saved when he takes so many innocent lives? Destroys so many families? Could I really shed my prejudice and hatred to prevent Tavington's demise?

I would have to get in the middle of the fight between Ben and him at Cowpens, most likely getting myself killed in the process. Or . . . I could somehow convince Tavington not to go, to sit this one monumental, vitally important battle out. I snorted. _Yea, like that's going happen._

No. I need to find a way to save the people at the church, which would stop Gabriel from chasing after the Dragoons which, in turn, would stop the Colonel from being injured. If he's not injured, than Cornwallis won't make his "wait till my order" speech, thus leaving Tavington more in an irate-Tavington mood, opposed to a pissed-off-Tavington mood. That may be enough for him not to charge and be killed. Also, if I stop Gabriel from injuring Tavington, I could prevent Gabriel's death, thus avoiding Ben from becoming royally pissed.

But that still left the question of _how_ I was going to accomplish this task that Hercules himself could probably never do. _Bloody hell._

"Miss Hawkins! Are ye decent?" Ian called over his shoulder, not wanting to turn around for fear of seeing me in not so great a position. "We need to head back to camp; the Colonel is waiting for ye."

I nearly groaned as Ian brought me back to reality with a horrible thud. "Yes, I'm coming. Hold on one moment." I quickly gathered everything up and threw the items unceremoniously into my bag before zipping it up and walking around the bush. "Let's get this over with," I muttered before setting off back toward my prison.

The Colonel was waiting outside his tent, giving orders to practically anyone who walked by. Something seemed to be bothering him and he took it out on the men around him. _No surprise there,_ I thought cynically. He caught sight of Ian and me walking up and narrowed his gaze before turning ordering Bordon, who was standing beside him, to continue with whatever they were doing.

As I walked up, Tavington looked me up and down, I think a bit confused by my attire and just over-all presentation.

"Interesting change of form, Miss Hawkins," he remarked. "One would think you were actually a woman, despite the attire."

"Hey, I can look pretty if I want to."

He raised an eyebrow and pulled back the tent flap, inviting me to enter, but I merely stood there, crossing my arms and leaning onto my right hip.

"I ain't goin' in there again." Tavington scowled, but continued to hold the flap open.

"Into the tent. Now," he ordered.

"Are you deaf, or just stupid?" I asked incredulously.

Tavington clenched his jaw. "Corporal, if you please?"

Ian grabbed my arm, muttering a diminutive apology, before dragging me inside and forcing me into a chair roughly. _And so it begins,_ I thought as Ian came to stand behind me and Tavington stomped into the room. He went over to his desk and poured himself a brandy before walking back over, raising himself to half sit on the table in front of me.

"Now, we can do this the hard way or the easy way, it's all your choice," he explained, taking a sip from the glass.

"How about we don't do it anyway?" I smiled.

"I'm afraid that isn't a category."

"Pity, and here I thought it was Jeopardy. I guess there are no cash prizes for right answers." I sat back, crossing my legs and propping my chin onto my hand while acting as if this was a casual encounter.

"If you don't want your own blood to be spilt you had best give me the _right_ answers," Tavington snarled. I raised my eyebrow, but said nothing. "Now tell me, who is the Ghost?"

"Your mom."

Tavington growled but tried again. "Who is the Ghost?"

"Snoop Dogg."

Tavington dropped off the table, placing his hands on the arms of my chair and leaning in to me. "Who is the Ghost?!"

I stared rigidly into his eyes. "The Tooth Fairy."

Without hesitation, Tavington back-handed me, only the rails of the chair stopping me from being thrown to the side. Pain flared on the side of my cheek where a tingling sensation took control. The opposite cheek to the one he hit yesterday.

"Hit me again, and you'll pay for it," I growled, my eyes flashing dangerously as I brought them back to Tavington.

"Answer me correctly and I'll find no need to hit you."

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies." I can't remember where I had heard that, but it seemed the opportune moment for it to present itself. I had to smiled at the look on Tavington's face; one of disbelief, frustration and anger.

"You insolent, little wench!"

"Well thank ye. I try hard to stay in shape." I flashed a smile to him.

Closing his eyes, Tavington took a deep breath and sat back onto the balls of his feet, placing his hands behind him. "Let's try another question." He fixed his gaze on me. "Where is the Ghost's camp?"

"Somewhere," I shrugged.

I could tell Tavington was trying to not roll his eyes. "And where would that 'somewhere' be?"

"Somewhere . . . over the rainbow, skies are blue," I sang.

"Miss Hawkins, kindly answer the question or say nothing at all, but do not sing!"

I smiled and leaned forward, clasping my hands together and supporting my elbows on my knees. "Ok, then let's try this. Where's my horse?"

"Your horse? I believe that mare belongs to The Green Dragoons."

I narrowed my eyes; I could feel the anger in my blood rising like a flash flood. "That's _my_ horse and you know it now where is she?!"

I could see inspiration flash across those ice eyes and I could have cursed myself for loosing my temper. "Tell me where I can find the Ghost and his militia and I'll tell you where your horse is stabled."

Suddenly an idea came to me. Smiling I sat back and lounged in the chair, examining my nails. "Alright, but you have to tell me where my horse is first."

Tavington frowned, "Tell me where the militia is, first, and I'll tell you where your horse is."

I shook my head, trying hard not to smile as I dropped my hand. "Nope, doesn't work that way. You see, I could find out where my horse is; there are many soldiers here who would probably know. You, however, only have me to give you _any_ kind of information pertaining to the 'Ghost' so I think _my way_ is the one we'll be following, savvy?"

I could practically see the wheels turning in his head. "Fine. Your horse is on the northern end of camp. Now where is the Ghost?"

_Northern end? No, I was there and no stables or corrals or anything was in sight. Which means my horse is probably on the southern end of camp._

Again I smiled. "Good to know. Now, you want to know where the Ghost is, correct?"

"Well I was hoping for it," he responded.

I smiled. "See? Sarcasm isn't above you either. Very well. The Ghost's camp is . . ." _Long, dramatic pause._ "In South Carolina."

Tavington waited a few seconds, hoping for me to continue. "Well? Where in South Carolina?" he snapped.

With a Cheshire cat grin on my face again, I replied, "That's just it. You never said I had to be specific. You just asked where the camp is. The camp is _in_ South Carolina, but if you wanted more precise directions, you should have asked a better question."

I could hear a small snort come from behind me, but my attention was focused on Tavington who had a murderous look to his face. A thread of fear entered my heart and I dropped my grin, starring warily at him.

"Corporal, out. Now!" Tavington ordered. A flurry of scurrying feet sounded behind me and with the fall of the tent flap, Tavington and I were alone. "This is all a game to you, isn't it?"

"Actually, I see it as killing two birds with one stone. Annoy you, and protect those I love," I shot back, glaring at him.

"Protect? We are in a war, Miss Hawkins. The value of life as greatly decreased."

"Your wrong," I spat with contempt. "Life is not something that can be measured. It is like precious jewel that must be admired and . . . respected and . . . protected at any cost. I sacrificed my freedom for that life."

"You've sacrificed nothing!" Tavington snarled.

In a snap I was up, my hands clenched into fists. "Nothing?! Wow, you amaze me more and more. Here I am, stuck in the _enemy_ camp, being interrogated by the man who _killed_ my foster brother and have absolutely no idea of whether I'll live to next _minute_, let alone next day. Right, everything is just _perfect!_"

Tavington, his eyes full of hatred and anger, stepped closer to me, flexing and relaxinghis hands. He was probably wishing they were around my neck, and hell, I was wishing mine were around his. "And you're at such an indisposition, aren't you? Well, you are not the only one. Do you honestly believe I wanted to be saddled with a sadistic, rude, vile little girl?"

"At least it's better than a murdering monster!" I shouted, stepping forward a few more steps. "You killed Thomas," I muttered in cold contempt. Never had I felt such a powerful emotion of hatred flare through my body.

"Oh, so that was his name. Well let me tell you something." He stepped even closer, a gleam coming into his eyes as they darkened into a deep blue. "If I had to go back and do it all over again, I would shoot the bastard a little lower and let him suffer all the more."

I didn't even realize I had done it until I felt the sting on the palm of my hand and I saw Tavington's head whip to the side. My eye's widened at what I had done. _Oh, shit, I'm screwed._

He stayed that way a few seconds, the deep red imprint of my hand beginning to emerge on his cheek and jaw as the muscles flexed beneath the smooth, tanned skin.

Quickly I regained my anger and whispered in a deadly, cold voice, "I hate you."

"Believe me, Miss Hawkins," Tavington replied, pulling his face back to mine. "The feeling is mutual."

"Glad to know we're on the same page." I could feel my heart beating wildly in my chest, making it difficult to concentrate. I was so worried he would hear it and know how scared I was at that moment.

"Report to your tent, Miss Hawkins. We will speak more, later." There was a deadly calm to Tavington's voice that chilled the blood in my veins. I tried to seem nonchalant about the whole thing, but it was becoming more and more difficult.

"Fine," I said, turning on my heel and walking out of the tent. I took a deep, calming breath once I was out in the fresh air, trying to steady my shaking hands and body. It wasn't until I was outside that I realized I had absolutely no clue where my tent was actually pitched. If it were another time I would have laughed at my stupidity, but at that moment I didn't feel much like laughing.

"Miss Hawkins?" Corporal McDonnough asked, stepping up next to me. "Are ye alright?"

I hadn't even realized that I was crying. The sudden wetness of tears sliding down my cheek was a bit startling. Quickly I wiped the salty liquid away with the heel of my hands. "Y-yes," I choked. "Yes, I'm fine. Just—"

"I understand," he said, taking my arm and leading me over to a shabby looking, tan tent. "The Colonel is naut a patient mon, and you were testing his patience to the limits."

I snorted, "No, he's not happy unless the people around him are panicked, nauseous or suicidal. Please." I stopped and turned to Ian when we were in front of a horribly patched tent. "I don't really want to talk about it. Can you just take me to my tent?"

Ian cocked his head to the side confused. "I did. It's right here." I flicked my eyes back to the tent. Actually, it wasn't even a tent. It was made of the same rough, tarp-like material, but much of it looked as if it were ripped multiple times and sewed back together by an inexperienced hand. It wasn't even pitched correctly. The middle fabric sagged because the posts were angled and the ropes weren't even securely fashioned. A five year old could have made a better tent.

"This . . . is it?" I asked.

He nodded. "Aye, pitched it meself."

"Gr-great! Thank you." I tried to sound grateful, really I did, but the fact that a Chihuahua could barely live in there was not making me feel all that grateful. I smiled and ducked under the flap. Standing, well actually more like slouching, I looked around at the meager amount of furniture in the tent. A cot with one blanket, no pillow, a chair, and my bags were the only items inside. Now I have to wait for Tavington to get in a better mood and send for me. "Yea . . . great."

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**Stephanie **—**1, Tavvy **—**1. Looks like an even game here, folks! Review!**


	27. Chapter 27: Burned Into Dreams

**I think maybe . . . . 148? **

**Chapter quote:** "Great, I wake up and have to deal with that anal-dwelling butt monkey," I growled to myself.**

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**Chapter 26: Burned Into Dreams**

"_I Stand For You_, no; _A Whole New World,_ you can say that again; _Beep_, no; _Dance, Dance_, not so much; _Home_, why not," I muttered to myself as I skipped through several songs on my ipod, the fake, blue glow illuminating the dismal area around me. I had been stuck in the bloody tent for over two hours, waiting for any word from the Colonel. In the first hour alone I had eaten the meager amount of bread given to me, tightened the tent up so now it was taunt, made an inventory of my supplies, and organized everything inside as best as I could.

By the second hour I was completely and utterly bored, resorting to flipping through various songs and daydreaming to them.

**_Yes, I made the choice  
For papa, I will stay  
But I don't deserve to lose my freedom in this way  
You monster!  
If you think that what you've done is right, well then  
You're a fool!  
Think again_!**

_Ain't that the truth,_ I thought, listening as the notes calmed me while the song from the Broadway version of _Beauty and the Beast_ flowed into my ear.

_**What I'd give to return  
To the life that I knew lately  
But I know now I can't  
All my problems going by  
Is this home?  
Am I here for a day or forever?  
Shut away  
From the world until who knows when  
Oh, but then  
As my life has been altered once  
It can change again  
Build higher walls around me  
Change ev'ry lock and key  
Nothing lasts, nothing holds  
All of me  
My heart's far, far away  
Home and free!**_

I could feel the tears brimming in my eyes as I ever-so-softly sang along, the melody hitting closer to my heart than I should have let it. Sighing in frustration, I turned my music off, wrapping the headphones around my mini angrily and practically throwing it into a corner of the tent. It was ironic how alike Belle and I really were. We both sacrificed our freedom to save those we love and we're both prisoners with no say in our lives. The only difference is her beast was hideous looking monster with a good heart while mine is the most handsome man I had ever seen with a heart of stone. I would have preferred the former.

I sighed dramatically and closed my eyes, hoping for some sleep or to at least relax enough to add some kind of energy to my body. I want to be as ready as possible when I face Tavington again, not something I was looking at all forward to.

I shifted around, trying to find a comfortable spot on the cot of stone. Lying on my back seemed to work, and with the blanket folded into a pillow behind my head, it almost felt tolerable.

As a cloud moved from out from in front of the sun, the rays of light came and blared down on the light-colored canvas, making me squint and move my head to the side as my hand came up to block the light.

Suddenly I froze when I heard the Colonel speaking outside my tent. "Is she in there, Corporal?"

"Aye, Sir. She hasna made a sound in over an hour. I think she's asleep," Ian replied in a clear tone.

"We'll see." Cold air blew in as the flap to my tent was moved aside and the Colonel entered. Even though my heart was beating wildly in my chest and my body tingled with nervousness, I kept my eyes loosely shut and my breathing as even as possible. I couldn't risk giving myself away and having to face him again. I was weak, I knew it, but no amount of bravery could get me to open my eyes.

I waited, patiently or impatiently I couldn't tell, but Colonel Tavington did nothing, just stood there staring at me. Even though I couldn't see him, I could already recognize the feel of his eyes as they roamed over my body. My cheeks began to heat as I thought of those eyes. Behind my own eyelids I could see the deep blue of them and my memories flashed to the look those eyes held at the ball, when we were dancing. His eyes held a look I could not identify.

After another thirty seconds, the flap opened and the Colonel left, much to my relief and surprise.

"Get me when she awakes," he ordered curtly before stomping away. I sighed and rolled over onto my side, facing toward the wall of the tent. _This is going to be a long day,_ I thought as I fell asleep, with Tavington's eyes burned into my dreams.

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Tavington POV 

Tavington stomped away from the prisoner's tent in a foul mood and for once it was his own doing, not hers. _No, it is her. Everything is her fault._

"Bordon," Tavington barked, stomping up to his Captain. "Go to the Blacksmith. Make sure all of the Dragoon horses are properly shoed. Private Collins's horse threw a shoe yesterday and damn near broke its leg."

"Yes, Sir."

Why was he so irritated? She never actually said anything to him. In fact, she did nothing but lay there, sleeping. It was the _way_ she looked sleeping. Damn it all, she was beautiful, but not in that delicate, pale way that was fashionable for women. No, she was dark, strong: a fighter. The way her auburn hair was displayed around her head in dark curls and the relaxation of her face enhanced the features of this girl. Even the contrast of her dark eyelashes against the pale skin of her cheeks, which now sported dark bruises thanks to him were beautiful.

Never before had Tavington felt a self-loathing about what he had done. To him, what happens happen and there was no use delving into the past. He refused to think about it. Tavington was also a man who cared little what people thought, but seeing her with bruises had made feel like the beast she had called him. And that was not in anyway beneficial to him.

"Wilkins!" Tavington yelled. He saw the overly tall man come sprinting out of an adjoining tent.

"Yes, Sir?" Wilkins asked panting as he skidded to a stop in front of his commanding officer.

"Do you know a man by the name of Charles Reinbeck?" Tavington asked.

"Yes, Sir. Amiable man. He has a plantation two miles north of Middleton Place," Wilkins explained. He had learned months earlier, when he joined the Dragoons, that his knowledge of South Carolina was a valued commodity and any question asked by Colonel Tavington deserved a thorough answer.

"Ready the men. We'll be making a stop tonight at Reinbeck's residence."

Wilkins also learned never to ask questions. "Yes, Sir."

He couldn't even wake her up. He just stood there, staring at her sleeping form like a school-boy with his first love. It sickened Tavington to no end. He was here for one thing and one thing only: to make a name for himself that isn't tarnished by Gavin Tavington.

There has to be something to do with the girl. Maybe he should put her to work. That would keep her out of his hair and make her earn her living with them, even if it is forced. Also, if he wears her down, she might have the fight worked out of her and give him the information Cornwallis is seeking.

Tavington couldn't help but smile. Capturing the Ghost would raise the approval in the eyes of his superiors. Then they could see what sort of man he really is and not the image his father portrayed right before his death. With a spring to his step, Tavington went about the rest of his day until middle of the afternoon, when the Corporal came to his tent. The girl was awake and waiting.

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I awoke a few hours later, feeling far more groggy than awake. That's what I hated about naps, I never woke up refreshed, simply more tired. I rolled over and sat up, rubbing my burning eyes since I had fallen asleep, again, with my contacts still in. _I'm 0 for 2 right now._ Stretching, I reached forward and took a swing from the cup of water brought to me with my breakfast hours before. I sighed and glanced around at my humble dwellings. _What to do now?_

"Miss Hawkins, are ye awake?" Ian called when he heard me rustling around.

"Define awake?" I shouted back, yawning.

I heard a chuckle. "I'll take that as a yes. Stay here, I need to go inform the Colonel ye have risen. He wanna speak to ye."

I groaned, "You don't have to." But he was already walking away.

"Great, I wake up and have to deal with that anal-dwelling butt monkey," I growled to myself.

I only had to wait at max five minutes before my tent flap was pulled aside and I was ordered out. Taking a deep breath I stood and walked outside, blinking against the bright shine of daylight. Luckily the sky was being covered with grey clouds, softening the otherwise dazzling luminosity of the sun.

Tavington stood in front of me, oppressive and commanding as ever in his red jacket and green vest. His eyes held the coolness of indifference as he sized me up. "Follow me," he ordered in a curt tone.

Glancing quickly behind at Ian, I stepped forward after the Colonel, apprehensive for what he had in store. In three quick strides I was parallel to him. I tried not to stare at his profile, so strong and sharp, like the rocks of a cliff face. _Rocks of a cliff face?_ I shook my head. _Great, now I'm spitting poetry._

"Is there a problem, Miss Hawkins," he asked with a smirk. "Or do you just like staring at me?"

My mouth dropped open in shock. _Of all the low-down, uncouth, boorish . . ._ "Sorry, no," I spat. I glanced around, trying to find a reason as to why I was staring at him. My eyes caught on the carved, wooden handle of my dagger. _How many men had I killed with that?_ "Merely noticing that you have _my_ dagger on your person. I want it back." I flicked my eyes back to his.

"You're a fool if you believe I will just hand this dagger back to you."

I smiled, maneuvering around a camp fire. "I didn't say you had to hand it to me. You could just _give_ it back."

"Hardly."

Instead of taking me to his tent, liked I was expecting, we sailed past it, walking toward the edges of the camp on the eastern side, facing the woods. "Where are we going?" I asked confused.

"To find work for you," Tavington replied.

I stopped as he continued to walk forward, staring incredulously at him. "_Work?!_"

He sighed and stopped as well, turning to face me as men's faces poked out of their tents, wondering about my shout. In two strides he was next to me, grasping my arm and pulling me forward. "Don't make a scene," he growled. "Yes, I'm finding work for you. I will in no way allow you to lounge about while you're here."

I tried to jerk my arm out of his grasp, but he held on firm. "It's not as if I _want_ to be here. I'm a prisoner, remember?"

"All too well. Tell me," He stopped and turn to me. "What skills do you have?"

I thought and smiled ruefully. "Well I can shoot a gun pretty well—"

"I mean women's skills," he growled, interrupting me. "Can you launder clothes?"

I bit my lower lip. "Um . . . no."

"Nursing?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

"Cooking?"

I snorted. "Not if you want to die."

He glared at me. "What's that suppose to mean?"

I winced a bit, realizing how that came out. "For once, not a death threat. I wouldn't subject King George himself to my cooking."

A spark of amusement came into his eyes. "Then what can you do?"

I stopped and thought. "Sew?"

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**I don't know, this chapter really isn't one of my favorites, but who knows, ya'll may love it.**


	28. Chapter 28: Saving More Than One

**Wow, who knew you guys would make it to 148, and then go so far beyond. Thanks for all of your reivews! I love each and every one of them. Oh and happy late Birthday ZukoLuver!**

**Chapter quote: **"I have killed my share of yer countrymen too and yet ye dunna hate me. Does that make us even?"

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**Chapter 27: Saving More Than One**

"Ow! Bloody hell," I muttered, sticking my index finger into my mouth, the metallic taste of blood coating my tongue since I poked myself with the needle, _yet again!_ "I really need a thimble or something."

I had been in the Dragoon camp for sometime now, doing nothing but mend ripped, cut or otherwise damaged apparel for the Dragoons. How much time had passed? I couldn't be sure. Time seemed to have an infinite quality to it, making me forget what day was when.

I sighed and leaned against the back of the chair, looking dismally at the pile of clothes yet to be mended versus the meager pile of clothes already done.

"Bloody hell," I grumbled and picked another shirt up, one that had a large cut along the sleeve. I was half-way through that shirt when I poked myself again, a bright red dot of blood forming on my finger. "That's it, time for lunch."

Again sucking my finger, I stood up, stretching my aching back and left the large tent where the dirty and soiled clothes were kept. Ian stood right by the doorway, vigilant as ever.

"Is there a problem, Miss Hawkins?" he asked, stepping up to my side.

"Just hungry . . . and I've stabbed myself too many times this morning," I added with a small laugh.

He smiled and nodded his head. "Then let us get something to eat. Truth be told, I was a bit hungry meself."

"Well we shouldn't tarry then."

I started toward the kitchen part of camp where many of the wives and daughters of the soldiers were working. I had never known this until I came to the Dragoon camp, but not only were the soldiers staying in the camp, but many had their wives and children with them. Some soldiers found it was easier to keep them here and protect them while many of the women had come to help their men in anyway they could. There were also a few who were here for . . . more private matters.

As we walked and Ian chattering amiably, I heard a little cry come from behind a bush to the right of us. I stopped and listened, waiting to hear if it were my imagination or if I really had heard something.

"Miss Hawkins?"

"Shhhhh!" I waved my hand for Ian to be quiet.

There was another little cry and, curious, I cautiously approached the bush, lowering my body into a crouch the closer I got. Finally when I was right next to it, I heard a soft sniffle and what sounded like crying. Stepping around the bush, I spotted a little girl, no older than two or three with white blond hair and big, sky blue eyes sitting there crying, holding onto a blanket for dear life.

A snapped twig made her gasp and scoot away from me, fear laced in her eyes.

"Hey, woah, it's ok," I cooed, kneeling onto the dry dirt. "I'm not going to hurt you." She just snuffled, her eyes flickering over my frame. I smiled kindly, not moving for fear of scaring her more. "It's alright. My name's Stephanie, what's yours?"

Two big tears fell from her eyes and she sniffled even more. "Am not tuppose to talk to you," she mumbled scooting away.

I frowned. "Why not?"

"My mommy says you're a webel and a bad girl."

I could feel the beginning of my anger growing, but I swallowed it. There was no reason for me to take it out on this innocent girl. I smiled, "No, I'm nothing but a girl, like you. Now, do you want to tell me your name?"

She mumbled something, her thumb having come up and popped into her mouth.

"Pardon, I couldn't hear you." I scooted closer.

"Ma name's Annabelle," she said quickly.

I smiled wider. "Annabelle? Well that's a pretty name. How old are you, Annabelle?"

She held up four fingers on her free hand while the other was occupied by her mouth. "Phree," she said.

"Three? Wow." I scooted even closer, but this time she didn't move. "Why are you crying, Annabelle? You're too pretty to cry."

She sniffled again. Digging into my pocket, I handed her a handkerchief. "I can't f-find my mommy a-and I fell and wuined my dress and hut my knee." She pointed to her soiled little frock and knee with a little scrap on it.

"Oh, dear! Do you want me to help you find your mommy?" I asked kindly. She nodded her head and took my outstretched hand. Pulling her up, we walked back around the bush where Ian was waiting, a smile breaking out on his lips when he caught sight of the girl holding my hand. "Looks like we have a search and rescue mission on our hands," I joked.

Just then I heard a scream and turned my head to watch as a pretty woman with the same blonde hair run forward toward us. Annabelle had barely screamed "Mommy!" before she was snatched up away from me.

"Don't you dare touch my child!" the woman screamed, holding her daughter to her chest. "You're nothing but rebel filth!" With that the woman turned and hurried away, a crying Annabelle holding desperately on.

"How about you tell me how you really feel?" I mumbled at the woman's retreating back. I looked to Ian and continued walking. "I guess I'm not going to be voted Class President, huh?"

"Pardon?" he asked confused.

"It's an expression. Pretty much means I'm not exactly popular." I glanced around me, noticing for the first time the glares, scowls and frowns directed at me. Each one I saw raised my temper more and more. What right did these people have to judge me? What right did they have to scowl, to point, to whisper about me behind me back? What right did they have to shun me?

"Ian, answer me this." I hurried away from the accusing stares and glances of hatred at me to the river, a place I had found that gave me tranquility. I turned to him, angling my head up to look him in the eye as the river trickled and sloshed behind us. "Why don't you hate me? Why don't you scorn me and curse me like everyone else?"

"Am I suppose to?" he joked, his mouth raised in a crooked grin.

I frowned. "I'm serious. You've been nothing but kind to me since I was brought here. Why?"

He lost his smile and sighed, looking upward at the rocking tree branches from the swift wind that came up. "I told ye when I was first assigned to ye. I dunna wanna be yer guard." He sighed again, adjusting the red jacket that donned his shoulders and looked me in the eye. "The truth of the matter is, my heart's naught in this war."

I quirked an eyebrow and asked, "What do you mean?" Some stray hairs blew in front of my face and I brushed them behind my ear impatiently.

"I'm the youngest of five boys. Three went into the clergy, which is where I wanna go, but me mum wouldna hear of it. She said she wanna son who was a soldier, like my Da." He shrugged. "She wanna me to be that son. And truth be told, I canna hate ye, now that I know ye."

"Really?" I barked. "How many mothers will never see their sons again? How many wives will never hold their husbands? How many daughters, nieces, and cousins will never laugh or talk with the men they love because of me? I look around here and see the families of the men I had sworn to kill and yet you say you can't hate me?"

Ian shrugged again, a look of seriousness entering his eyes. "I have killed my share of yer countrymen too and yet ye dunna hate me. Does that make us even?"

I opened my mouth to argue and then realized . . . I didn't have an argument.

* * *

After that, the relationship between Ian and I changed. He was still my guard and I his ward, but there wasn't that strange barrier erected between us. I could now talk to him freely, without fear of what I was saying getting back to the Colonel, for most of the time it was me complaining about him. He had become my best, and only, friend in the camp. 

But it was strange. Since that first interrogation, I hadn't been summoned or questioned about my role in the militia or for information about Benjamin. In fact, the Colonel hadn't said one word to me since giving me my job in the camp. Not that I was complaining, the less time around him, the happier I was, but it was just . . . weird, for lack of a better word. I mean, this is the Butcher we're talking about. He never struck me as a man to leave something unfinished.

The Colonel was gone on more patrols, now that the raids from the militia had increased expedientially. He would leave camp for three or four days at a time, returning in a fouler mood than when he left. I made sure, with Ian's help, to stay away from him at these times. I may have been under Cornwallis's protection, but since when does Tavington listen to Cornwallis?

I sighed, throwing pebbles into the rushing waters of the river. One of the many good things brought of Tavington on assignment is the free time I have. When he's in camp, I stick to either my tent or the tent with all the linens and avoid him as much as possible, but when he's gone . . . blessed freedom!

For the next few minutes I continued to throw pebbles and pieces of earth into the river, killing time. The sun was setting and I just wanted to indulge myself of a few minutes on my own, the first time in over a week. As I threw, a strange sound reached my ears, like a cry, but it wasn't from any animal I had ever heard. I stopped to listen. _Wait . . . there it is again!_ I strained to hear the unfamiliar noise, when a splash upriver caught my attention. Squinting, I stepped in the river, the icy coldness soaking my boots and socks instantly. Another splash, closer this time and a cry had me running further into the river like a Baywatch model when they went to save an extra. I heard a shout behind me, but I kept going, ignoring the pleas of Ian to come back.

Soon the water was up to my mid-thigh, the frigid temperature sucking all the warmth from my limbs as the layers of my skirt became tangled in my legs. I slipped on a smooth rock and my head fell below the water. Quickly I jumped back up, water spraying it every direction, as I desperately pushed my body further and further into the river, fighting against the current and the temperature, trying to get to the creature.

The water was up to my waist by the time I reached the middle. The cries had become more desperate, pleas for a second chance at life that seemed to be gradually slipping away. I leapt forward and grabbed the paw of the animal I had seen up river, pulling it to me and wrapping my arms around its shaking form as I ripped it out of the water. I turned and began my slow trek out of the river, noticing now how frozen my limbs were, but the shaking and exhausted form of the animal in my arms gave me more strength to continue.

The water was dripping off me, sucking more and more of my body heat by the time I reached the bank and had Ian grabbing my arms, pulling me from the waters.

"Jesu, woman! What were ye thinkin'?!" He admonished, tearing himself out of his jacket and draping it over my shaking shoulders.

"I saw s-something," I stuttered.

Ian pulled me along toward the main area of camp. "And just what was that?"

"This." I relaxed my arms and uncovered the shaking, wet form of a little black kitten. It was so drenched I could see the pale skin under the midnight fur. It turned its little yellows eye to mine and let out a mournful meow, the bones of its ribcage poking unhealthily under the skin as it panted from fear and exertion.

Ian features become gentler as he stared at the little thing in my arms. "A cat isna worth dying over."

"No, but it is worth saving," I countered. He smiled and said no more.

My legs were still numb and a bit shaky as I walked on them back to camp, but they threatened to give out when I heard the familiar call of "Miss Hawkins!" issue from the mouth of the Colonel. Both Ian and mine heads snapped up at the call and I could feel the blood drain from my face. _Oh boy, here we go._

I held the kitten tighter to my chest, both to give it my body heat and to keep it protected, as I saw Tavington come racing over, practically shoving people out of the way to get to me. Right before he reached me did I realize the state I was in, drenched skirts that clung to my legs, an overlarge Redcoat jacket over my shaking, thin form and my hair, a mass of dark ringlets dripping water around my face. And my make up was probably running as well.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" he practically screamed as he stopped in front of me. He had a look in his eye that was something I had never seen. _Fear?_

"Actually, there was no thought process," I shrugged.

"Yes, that is painfully obvious," he spat at me. "What do you think were you doing, jumping into the river like that?"

"The problem is not what I think I'm doing, Colonel. I know what I'm doing. It's what _you_ think I'm doing," I smiled at him, but he glared coldly at me, his nostrils flaring out like a bulls.

"A direct answer, if you please."

I rolled my eyes. "I was saving a life."

"Who's life?"

"This life," I held the kitten up like Rafiki did for Simba, but quickly covered the cat, for fear of it getting colder than it actually was.

Tavington stared at the cat dumbfounded. "You risked your life . . . _for a cat's?!_ Are you daft?"

"No, merely a conservationist."

"A what?"

"Never mind," I breathed, brushing past Tavington on my way to my tent. A grip on my arm spun me back around.

"Never turn your back to me," Tavington growled, pulling me toward him as his grip on my arm sent waves of pain along my flesh.

"Colonel, I don't have _time_ for your little tantrum at being dissed, ok? Both this cat and I are freezing and standing out here in the cold air is not helping matters."

"Maybe I should chain you outside for all your insolence," he hissed back.

_**Count to ten, Steph. Come on. 1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . .** **CRACK!**_

"Insolence?!" I screamed, jerking my arm out of his grasp. "Don't you get it?!" _**Come on, Steph, calm down—** _"It's because of you that my anger reaches the boiling point!" _**Here she goes.**_ "It's because of you that I'm stuck in this camp. It's because of _you_ I'm a prisoner and will never see those I love again, so why should I treat you with any kind of respect? Especially when it seems you always come running up to me, screaming about something I did."

"I do not scream at you," he countered. I noticed out of the corner of my eye a crowd beginning to form.

"Really? So what was that before, a friendly hello?"

"Well maybe I would be more civil if you weren't so blasted sarcastic! Every order I give, every statement I make you have some kind of retort for!"

"Because it's so easy annoy you! My God, you take everything so goddamn seriously!"

He was clenching and unclenching his fists as he shot daggers at me from his eyes. "And you take nothing seriously at all—"

"Believe me, I take plenty of things seriously," I shot back. I had to relax my arms, there was a feeling of tension was running through the length of me and I didn't want to crush the kitten that had nestled into my arms and was hiding her head in the crook of my elbow.

"Sir, maybe I should—"

"Silence, Corporal!" Tavington turned his look of distain back to me. "Like what? What have you ever taken seriously?" he asked.

My blood began to boil and all I could see was red as I shouted, "Like the fact that I'm here in this godforsaken colony, that's one! Like being ripped away from everything I have ever loved and thrown into a place that is completely and totally alien to anything I have ever known. That's two. To know I will _never_ see my family, or my friends, or anyone I know ever again because there is absolutely no way to get home. You try living on that and let me know if adding a bit of humor to one's life doesn't stop them from going insane."

Spinning on my heel, I marched away, shoving through the crowd and practically running to my tent as I felt tears of frustration and sadness coat my cheeks in salty trails. For once Tavington did not follow me or order me to come back. He let me run and for that, I was grateful.

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	29. Chapter 29: Flight

**Thank you, thank you, thank you! Thank you everyone for your wonderful reviews, they really brighten up my day.**

**Chapter quote: **'If I had to be in the presence of Tavington any longer I was going to have shoot myself.'

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**Chapter 28: Flight**

_**Way to go, Steph. **_

_Shut up._

_**No, really. Why didn't you just invite him to tea and spill out your whole sob story? I think the environment would have been better.**_

_Didn't I tell you to shut up?_

**_Since when do I listen? Maybe you should just go and confess your love to Tavington. It might make your life a little easier and Lord knows that's why you're angry all the time. You're trying to keep him away._**

_What is this, Dr. Phil?! I don't love Colonel Tavington, I sworn off love a long time ago._

_**That wasn't love, you only thought it was.**_

_Whatever. This argument isn't even valid since I'm arguing with myself._

_**And they call me the insane one.**_

"Shut up!"

"I beg yer pardon, I never said anythin'." I jumped and spun around to see Ian right behind me, looking very confused.

"Oh, sorry. I hadn't realized I had spoken aloud," I apologized.

"Indeed. So ye always yell at yerself to be quiet?" he smiled.

I tired to smile in return, but exhaustion and the cold had finally seeped into me and my legs gave out. Ian wasn't fast enough to catch me and my knees it the dirt and rock of the ground with a painful thud.

"Miss Hawkins! Are ye alright?" The concern in his voice hurt more than helped.

"Please, Ian. I need to get back to my tent, but I can't seem to do it on my own."

"O' course."

He reached under my legs and around my back, lifting my drenched, shaking form and carried me to my tent, where he quickly got a fire going. The warmth of the flames did nothing to warm the coldness in my heart, but at least I was beginning to get feeling in my legs. With my request, Ian went into my tent and brought out my backpack. Digging through its contents I found a little brush and started to brush the wet fur of the cat, slowly and steadily. I heard Tavington go stomping back to his tent, which was cattycorner to mine, but I ignored him, focused more on the baby animal on my lap.

The little kitten continued to have its head buried in my arm, like an ostridge who was afraid to meet the world, but the more I brushed, and the drier it became, the more I could feel the gentle hum of a purr issue from its chest.

Finally, after I too had dried off, she (for though my brushing I had discovered her gender) poked her little head out and meowed a soft, clear tone. For the first time in awhile I smiled, genuinely smiled. I cuddle the cat for a little while, before Ian showed up with a bowl full of milk.

"Thank you," I said, taking the bowl and setting it down next to me. Lily, as I decided to name her, jumped down and attacked the milk in the bowl with fervor. I laughed, watching the little cat with growing love and amusement. Shifting my aching shoulders, I realized I still had Ian's coat on. "Ian!" I called. He turned from where he was observing the camp.

"Yes, Miss Hawkins?"

I pulled the coat off of my still damp shoulder, shivering as the cold wind bit into my skin. "Here, this is yours. I'm afraid it's a little wet though. And please, after everything that has happened, call me Stephanie."

"But, it isna proper—"

"We're in the middle of the backcountry. Who cares if it's proper or not?"

He smiled again. "Alright . . . Stephanie."

* * *

Two weeks after found me sick with a cold, no doubt from my escapades into the river, but luckily I had enough punch in my immune system to be over the major hump in a matter of days. Of course, with the lack of tissues and the presence of really crappy handkerchiefs, my nose was rubbed raw by the end of my illness. 

Lily, my new found companion, never left my side, actually, she never left the tent. She was a shy little cat, wanting to bury herself in the folds of my skirts than face anything out in the open. She had filled out in the first week, looking now to be the right weight of a kitten, and judging by her size, I couldn't see her any older than three or four months.

I soon went back to mending all the clothes I could possibly get, and had reduced the pile, which grew each day, to a very minimal amount, thus giving me more than enough free time. I would spend that time either at the river drawing (I found my sketch pad and pencils at the bottom of my bag but was soon running out of paper) or I would visit Lainathiel who was corralled with the other horses at the southern end of camp, right where I'd thought she'd be.

I told Lainathiel everything, even if she didn't understand me. Lainathiel had been with me since the beginnings and we had an understanding that went further than just man and beast. We were both captives; both longing for the day our freedom would be granted; both leaning an each other for support. My horse was my very best friend.

Something had changed after the ordeal by the river. Tavington was pulling Ian away, more and more to do different jobs and had given me another guard: an ugly, stout Irishman named O'Hurley. He was as dumb as they came in the dragoons, and strong as an ox, but with a personality of a gnat. He trailed behind me wherever I went, silent and brooding; as if he had better things to do than babysit me.

Tavington also became unbearable. Everyday, even during my sickness, he called me into his tent where we would have a verbal fencing match concerning Benjamin and the militia, usually leaving him frustrated and me pissed. He never hit me again however, which was _extremely_ surprising. The fact that he hadn't already run me through that his really shiny, and really _sharp_ saber was proof that Cornwallis still had the leash around Tavington's throat. As long as Cornwallis still thought that I would give information up, I was safe.

One interrogation secession ended in a shouting match between the two Tavington and I.

"Will you just drop it?!" I shouted, my fists clenched as I stared at Tavington full on. "I ain't gonna tell ya nothin'!"

"Well that's proper English for you," he sneered sarcastically. "Honestly, how can you colonials speak in such an undignified way?"

"Without a problem. Wanna hear?"

Two more weeks passed in this manner, with me becoming more and more angry as Tavington filtered through my thoughts more and more. Lily, I was happy to say, was growing larger each day, like a little dragon. She soon became one of the only condolences I had in camp, for most, if not all of the followers and soldiers shunned me in way or another.

Tavington seemed to have realized that taking Ian away from me wasn't breaking my spirit like he had hoped, so Ian was placed back as my main guard, but, like everything, it wasn't to last.

* * *

A soft melody was running through my head as I stood there, brushing the auburn coat of Lainathiel when Ian walked up, having been summoned by a messenger about fifteen minutes before. 

"So what did the lobster have to say?" I asked, my attention still focused on my horse.

I heard him chuckle behind me. "Remember, Stephanie, I am one of those lobsters."

"Yes, but you're not quite as hard boiled as some," I smiled.

"Well, I'm quite pleased ye think so highly of me."

"I always think highly of you," I responded. "Anyway, what did the guy have to say?"

"He just had to inform me of a change in placement."

I stopped brushing Lainathiel's coat and turned around, staring confusedly at Ian. "Change in placement?"

He was staring at a letter in his hands, reading it again and again. "Yes. I'm moving up in the ranks." He brought his silver-blue eyes to mine. "Y're looking at the new head clerk for Lord General Cornwallis."

"Oh, congratulations!" I exclaimed, dropping the brush and jumping up to hug Ian. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Tavington walk out of his tent and look our way, a peculiar expression on his face. I ignored him, however, placing any thoughts about him on the back burner of my mind. Unwrapping my arms from around his neck, I lowered myself down to the ground until I was facing Ian again. "So when do you start?"

He had a shocked expression on his face, as if he couldn't believe I just did that. "Um, Friday. Next Friday," he stuttered. "I'm afraid that I willna longa be yer guard when I leave."

My smile faltered a little when he mentioned that fact. Although I was a prisoner, Ian had become my only human friend in the camp, and to loose him permanently was hurting me deeply. Plastering a fake smile onto my face I said, "That may be true, but you're moving to bigger and better things." _And besides, Tavington can't threaten me with hurting you anymore . . . . wait!_ "Question: since your Cornwallis's new clerk, does that mean that you no longer have to take orders from the Colonel, and no longer receive, say, punishments from him?" I asked casually.

Ian's smiled faltered like mine had and a questionably gleam entered his eyes. "Until Friday I am still under Colonel Tavington's orders. However, if I warranted punishment, than he would have to take the case to Cornwallis afore he could do anythin'. Why do ye ask?"

Already my mind was working furiously. I smiled at Ian, sincerely this time, and turned around to take Lainathiel back to the corral. "Just curious!" I threw back over my shoulder.

I heard a sigh, and then Ian followed behind, but I focused more on the plan forming on my head than that of anything else. Unfortunately, the feeling of eyes trained on my back never left, and I knew that Tavington had watched the whole exchange.

* * *

A few days later, I had my plan sketched out in my head. I was escaping; there was no way around it. If I had to be in the presence of Tavington any longer I was going to have shoot myself. Because of the process it would have to take for Ian to actually get in trouble, this would be the only chance I may be given to finally be free and make my way back to Ben. 

The idea that maybe I was sent back to save Tavington was still floating around in my skull, but I could easily do that from back at the militia camp. And hey, maybe it's not him I have to save, but Gabriel and Anne. Lord knows they deserve it more than the Colonel does. To think, when I would watch the movie back home, I actually pitied the man. Ha! I was so naive and sentimental back then.

Ian was leaving that Friday morning, so the night after I would make my escape, and only hoped that I wouldn't be caught. The day itself dawned bright and clear. Ian left after breakfast, and I will admit I shed a few tears to see him leave. My one and only human friend in camp was gone and that was a little hard to bear, but the idea that my escape was only hours away steeled my heart and got me through the day. I had packed much of what I had into the saddlebags and had smuggled them out and hidden in the bushes by the river, wrapped up in dirty clothes that I was going to 'wash.'

As the sun began to sink below the horizon, the blood flowing through me began to pound with fear and adrenalin. It took much of my will power not to jump at everything, thinking that the men knew what was going on inside my head. I took several deep breaths to compose myself and then went to bed, waiting until the time came for me to make my move.

Every night since I had formulated my plan, I had stayed awake at night, listening to the patrols and trying to learn the pattern of watches. I discovered that at around three to four in the morning, the camp was at its quietest. The men who went out for fun were already in their drunken sleep or with the whores they bought, while the followers who made breakfast in the morning had yet to rise. Also, at that time, the patrols were being switched so there were lengthy gaps when no one was by my tent.

I laid awake for much of the early part of the night; my body and mind wanting nothing to do with sleep. O'Hurley, who had been made my chief guard, had long since gone to bed and I was stuck with a new private who had unluckily drawn the straw for the redeye shift. The night wore on, but each passing second was like a millennium, increasing my paranoia that I would be caught which kept my senses on alert. Each snapped twig, each cough was the Colonel, waiting for me to make my move so he could strike.

Finally, blissful silence rolled into camp like a mist from the sea. The calmness that came just before dawn permeated everything, and I knew the time had come. As quietly as possible, I gathered Lily up and placed her in a basket that I had filched from some ladies, covering the top of her with a blanket and then the straw lid. Since Lily was one for dark places she could nestle in, she gave me no qualms about her imprisonment. I already changed into a dark pair of jeans, a black shirt and my dark cloak. Everything, including Lainathiel's saddle and bridal, were already strategically placed, so all I would have to do is saddle my horse, hook up the bags and escape into the forest. Simple, efficient, and destined to go wrong.

Earlier in the day I had loosened the pikes keeping my tent taunt, which allowed me to slip under the yellow canvas in the back, and meander my way through the maze of tents, as quiet and poised as a wolf. The basket containing Lily swung from my arm and the dark hood of my cloak was drawn over my face, hiding my pale features that would gladly give me away. The moon, although it wasn't full, was still in its waning gibbous phase adding more light than I would have liked.

Reaching the end of camp, I paused and crouched low to the ground as the switch of the watches was being made. It was now or never. Taking a breath, I crept out into the meadow that housed the horses, keeping myself as close to the ground as possible and in as many shadows as I could find. My feet moved with quiet efficiency and I thanked God my clumsiness went on a holiday.

Looking back at the guard who was stationed at the boarder of camp, I softly whistled, calling Lainathiel to me. She plodded over, her head moving up and down in rhythm to her steps as I hid under a tree that was surrounded by varying amounts of bushes. Calmly and quickly I set the basket containing Lily down, and saddled Lainathiel. Once the saddle was set, I hooked the basket on one of the loops, and bridled my horse as fast as my shaking fingers would allow.

I could feel the beginnings of sweat pooling on my brow and my breathing was shallow and quick, but I paid little attention to it; so focused was I on escape. As soon as the last strap was secure, I dropped to my hands and knees, putting the rope connected to the bridal in my mouth, and then started crawling across the dense, high grasses that covered the meadow; my destination the woods that were only a few hundred feet away.

As I crawled, a cloud fell over the moon, darkening the area further and giving me at added advantage to my escape. I would have cheered, had I not been so tense at that moment. Once I reached the woods, I stood up, tying Lainathiel to a branch, and meandered my way until I found my saddle bags and backpack, hefting them up and carrying back to my horse where I subsequently tied them to her saddle. Just as the last knot went tight, a bugle sounded back at camp, startling both Lainathiel and me.

My hood fell off my head as my gaze snapped back to look at the camp that had come alive with torches and campfires. Men were running around, barely dressed and wondering what the hubbub was about. Squinting, I saw Tavington come tearing out his tent, his dark hair loose with a pistol in his hand.

Since dawn was still at least two or three hours away, the bugle was a bit of a mystery until I saw the Dragoons saddling their horses, and Tavington come running back to his tent from the direction of mine. They knew I was gone.

With all pretext gone, I cursed, leapt into the saddle and kicked Lainathiel into the forest, pushing her to run as fast as her hooves could carry her. Lily cried out from the jostling and I quickly tied the lid covering her tighter so she wouldn't fall or try to jump out. I could hear the sounds of the camp fading into the distance and breathed a sigh of relief when no hoof beats were heard following me. The thought that I had actually made it filtered through my head until a gun shot pierced the air, startling Lainathiel enough to rear up, and me not to hold on. I felt myself tumble from her back as she ran off into the woods and landed hard on my stomach, the air forcefully pushed from my lungs as leaves and sticks clung to my hair and imprinted on my face. A fire flared to life, illuminating the area around me within thirty feet. I rose my head, shaking the leaves out and glimpsed those around the fire, I knew I should have stayed at camp.

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**Haha, I bet ya'll want to kill me now, right? Well, I'm afraid I have to leave off here. I have a dance recital to be in (we're doing _Beat It_, _Thriller_, and I get to be Velma Kelly in _All that Jazz_ :) ). So yea, I guess you guys have to leave off until next Saturday. Review!**


	30. Chapter 30: And Fright

**Aiight ya'll, this chapter is one of those chapters that I have to warn all you youngins (yes, I know there are a few of you reading this) that there are a few adult situations involved. Now, I'm not going to dictate whether or not you should read this, but ye have been warned!**

**And I'm posting early because a) I think I made you guys suffer enough by waiting, and b) I'm sick with flu (even though flu season is over. Go Figure) and reviews will make me feel better:)**

**Chapter quote: **'I vowed I would even go back to Tavington if it meant that I was alive.'**

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**

**Chapter 29: And Fright**

My eyes widened as I took in the sight of several depraved-looking men standing around a campfire, staring at me with an odd expression of shock and feral hunger.

"Well, well, well, what 'ave we here, Gents?" the biggest of the group muttered, holstering his pistol as wisps of smoke were continuing to float out of the barrel. I visibly gulped and scrambled onto my feet, backing slowly away from these men while I brushed the leaves from my clothes. My hair had fallen out of my ribbon and hung around my face, wisps floating in front of my vision as I stared at them, my heart beating even more painfully than it was before.

A crude tent stood behind them, and several horses were tethered to a tree branch to the right. As I looked between the men with their dirty shirts and pants, I noticed a coat blow in the soft wind, a coat that looked eerily like . . . .

"You're deserters . . . aren't you?" I chocked out, pointing to them as I backed up even further. When they smiled and the man who I assumed was the leader bowed mockingly to me, I nearly gasped, for at the same time my back made contact with the rough bark of a tree, stopping me in my tracks. Deserters were known throughout the ranks; both British and American armies had many of them. Although many were young boys escaping the trials of war, some were rogues who felt their command was the only command to follow. And these were the men many feared would ever cross their paths. _Kudos to me,_ I thought sarcastically.

The leader (for he was easily the biggest and meanest looking of the group) stood up, his black eyes glinting maliciously in the waning light of the fire. "We prefer freelancers, if ya will. 'Deserters' 'as too much of an . . ." he licked his lips as he smiled. "Ill-quality to it."

"Oh, pardon me," I squeaked out. "But please, let me not intrude on your . . . freelancing." I tired to back around the tree and head off into the safety of the woods, but quick as a flash, my arm was seized in a vice-like grip and I was pulled toward the fire as the men made a ring around me.

"Whas the 'urry, poppet?" the smallest man in the group leered, his pale eyes running the length of my frame. I was suddenly reminded of an orc, but brushed the idea aside.

"No-nothing," I stuttered, staring at him with wide eyes. "I just, you know, have places to go, people to see—"

"Oh come, yer na goin' to brush aside our hospitality are ya?" The leader commented, wrapping his huge arm around my shaking shoulders.

"Hospitality?" I tried to keep the incredulousness out of my tone, but some slipped through.

"Yes," the man continued, seemingly to ignore he distressed look on my face. "We're jus' sittin' down to break our fast. Care to join?"

"Really," I said firmly, ducking out from under his arm and backing away slowly. "I have to be going—"

Suddenly I bumped into something very hard and felt as if an anaconda was wrapping itself around my upper arms. With fear burning through my heart, I started to thrash around, trying to get my would-be assailant to let me go while screaming anything that came into my head.

Laughing echoed all around the forest the more I fought, but none as loud as that of the leader. "Ya didn' think we're jus' goin' to le' ya go?" he shouted above the din.

"Well I was hoping!" I yelled sarcastically as I stopped to take a breath.

"Ya should 'ave stayed with the Dragoons, love," he chuckled. Any hitting and scratching I was thinking about doing came to a sudden halt.

"What makes you so sure that I left the Dragoons?" I asked, blowing the hair out of my face.

"Because we heard ye comin' from that direction," one of the other men squeaked out. He was a tall, gangly fellow with pale hair and eyes that leered non-too subtly.

I raised my eyebrow and glared in a menacing manner. "So? That doesn't mean anything. I could have been coming from hell for all you know." The man looked confused, looking around for a retort that wasn't coming. "Now kindly let me go. I'm of no use to any of you."

"Oh I wouldn't say that," the leader replied, stroking his chin as he shifted his black eyes to me. I gulped and could feel heat rise in my cheeks as he racked his eyes over my form. The other men laughed heartedly, stepping ever closer to me.

Anger surged into me, however it was barely blocking out my fear. "If any of you touch me, it'll be the last thing you ever do," I growled.

"Well, it seems we've come 'cross a littul hellcat, Gents." There was more laughed as they continued to inch closer. "I be' the men at camp really enjoyed wha' ya had to offer."

Realization dawned on me and I nearly laughed out loud. "Offer? I never offered them anything," I spat. "I was a prisoner in the camp, but I'm escaping. That's why I need you to let me go, so I can go home."

My leader gave me a mocking, sympathetic look, reaching up to brush the dark, greasy hair from his eyes. "Prisoner, aye? Well then, ya won' mind if we do this." He motioned to the man restraining me and suddenly I found my back thrown against a tree, knocking the air out of me again while my arms were wrenched behind my back and tied around the truck with a strip of tough leather. I fought again, self-preservation winning the war of emotions, but a quick backhanded slap to my face still my motions quickly. It wasn't until that moment that I realized that the Colonel had actually been lenient with me. Although his attacks had stung, and I received some bruising from them, it wasn't this star-dazzling strike that instantly set my head to pounding.

"Now love, we're no' bad men, but if ya fight us too hard, we may 'ave to be a littul rough with ya, so just relax, and ya might even enjoy it," the man smirked, looking down his overly large nose to lecture me as if I were a child. Growling, I worked up as much saliva as I could and spit into his face, causing a roar of outrage to issue from his pudgy mouth. Another hit snapped my head to the side as the man muttered, "Bloody bitch."

"Sticks and stones," I muttered, tasting the metallically flow of blood across my tongue. "You'll pay for that!" I barked, wishing that my eyes could actually shoot daggers at these men.

"Oh, pay fer it will I?" the man smirked moving closer to me again and pulling out a very large, intimidating looking dagger from his belt, the silver of the blade glinted maliciously in the firelight.

Widening my eyes and whimpering in fear, I tried to move away from the man as he came closer, but being tied to a tree didn't allow me to go far. "What a wanton wench you are, wearing such clothing," he purred as he ran the dagger along the exposed skin of my hips and midriff, not quiet pressing enough to cause any serious damage, but enough that my skin now had a very long cut that oozed blood. I hadn't even noticed until then that because of the positions of my arms, my cloak had split to reveal my jeans and shirt, which had risen up to expose that part of my skin.

"What can I say, it shrunk," I hissed as my side continued to burn, even after he removed the blade.

"Then we may have to remove it all together." With a precise cut, he split my shirt right up the middle, exposing my bra-clad chest to the world. I screamed in outrage and aimed a kick to the guy's shins but he jumped back away from me while all his gooney friends laughed and leered. "Well, wha's this? No corset?" The man remarked, pointing the dagger at my black, lace bra. "And what be the function of this tempting piece of clothing?" he whispered in my ear, sending shivers of outrage and fear to race through me.

"Lift and separates?" I muttered sarcastically. All the men laughed heartily expect for the leader standing in front of me, who gained a peculiar look to his eye. A look all women know and fear that it will ever be directed at them. When people talk about climbing mountains or riding rough waters, they say they become one with it, so attuned that when the feat is accomplished, they cannot fully explain how they did it. With that one look, I became one with this man, a man who had every intention of 'sampling my wears.'

I forgot about the other men for a moment, I was too engrossed in the beast in front of me. He stepped up till his body was pressing my back into the tree. I didn't cry out as pain flared; I didn't want to give him that satisfaction. The heat of his body began to infuse itself with mine, but unlike the times when Tavington was this close to me, my blood chilled opposed to being heated.

The man smiled and leaned down to kiss me, but I had anticipated it, and firmly pressed my lips together while training vainly to turn away from the rotting smell of stale alcohol that coated the man's breath. He stopped the kiss and whispered, "Come, come, my dear. Open up a littul, love." His hand moved up my side to cup my breast as the other forced itself between my legs, rubbing me through my jeans. "Enjoy it, ya know ya wan' to."

I whimpered and tried clasping my thighs together to force him out, but he merely chuckled and kicked my legs further apart, granting him even more access. I could feel tears of shame and anger enter my eyes and fall down my cheeks as the man continued his assault on my persons. I couldn't take it any more. "Please," I begged. "Please, stop this. I've done nothing. Just let me go and we'll forget this whole thing ever happened." My voice felt rough and hoarse as I tried to prevent myself from crying. This man was taking too much of my dignity away from me, but I was not going to let him take it all.

"Come on, Garrick; let us 'ave a turn wif 'er!" The little orc man called in frustration.

"You'll 'ave yer turn when I say ya can 'ave yer turn, Archie!" Garrick growled, never taking his eyes from me.

Suddenly, the sound of crashing leaves was heard and a rider flew into the camp, firing off two pistols and hitting the gangly man and the bear-of-a-man who had restrained me straight through their hearts. The camp went into an uproar as men fell in cold blood, while the others left standing were running for cover and to attack the rider. Garrick moved away from me, bellowing out orders while I scooted around the tree, covering myself in darkness as I tried to work the leather around my wrists.

My fear was beginning to peak as I fought my restrains with ferocity, sobs forcing their way out through my cut lips. Two gun shots were fired, making me jump and snap my eyes shut while I bit my lip to stop my cries. I didn't want to see what was happening, I just wanted to be free of this place, of this time. I vowed I would even go back to Tavington if it meant that I was alive. Forcing my eyes open, I once again fought my manacles, but this time with desperation, until a dagger came up, slicing my bonds and I was roughly pulled away from the tree. I would have cried out with joy, had not a thin, but surprisingly strong arm pin my arms to my sides as the other brought the sharp, cold blade of a dagger to my throat.

I froze instantly, the skin of my throat tingling as I waited for the man holding me to slice across and end my life. My eyes flickered back and forth while tears dotted my eyes, blurring my vision slightly. I didn't want to die, not in this place, not in this time. I wanted to be with my family, safe and home again.

Blinking rapidly, I managed to clear my vision enough that I was able to see again, just as the mysterious rider came into my view, only he wasn't mysterious any more.

In one jerk, Tavington pulled his bloodied saber from the innards of the last man standing and glanced over towards me and my captor, his blue eyes widening a fraction before a deadly resolve came over his features. If I wasn't in such a compromised position, I would have drooled at the look of him: hair down, shirt untucked and unbuttoned, showing off massive chest muscles and the customary red jacket thrown over the whole ensemble. Drool worthy: the best way to describe him.

The man holding me, which I discovered was Archie the little orc-man, began to tremble as Tavington sauntered over to us. "Do-don' come any closer or I-I'll slice 'er throat!" he threatened, pressing the blade further into my neck. The blade pierced the skin slightly as a hiss of pain escaped my lips. Tavington stopped mere feet from us, glaring at Archie.

"Let her go and I'll kill you quickly," he growled; his voice as cold and hard as ice.

Archie laughed nervously, dragging the dagger down my throat and increasing the small incision. I bit my lip painfully as fire seared through my veins. I tried not to make a sound, but a soft whimper escaped my lips. "Oh look, I've cut 'er. Wha' a shame," he said with mock concern.

I glanced at Tavington, feeling my fear shine through my eyes as I pleaded with him to save me. His eyes flickered to mine for only a moment before turning his stare to Archie.

"I'm warning you, you'll save yourself a lot of pain if you just let her go," he tried to reason, lifting his sword and pointing it at Archie's chest.

"P-pain?" Archie sniveled. "The only suffering pain around 'ere will be 'er!" He raised the dagger up as if to plunge it into my heart, but with a cry I threw my head back, knocking my skull into his nose as my foot came down hard on his instep and my elbow hit him in the solarplex. I knew watching my brother's fight would help me someday.

Archie grunted in pain and dropped the dagger as his hands came up to his broken nose and bruised stomach. Spinning around, I gave him a swift kick between the legs, but tripped and fell to the ground as Tavington ran up, attacking Archie the same way Ben attacked those first soldiers all those months ago; with viciousness and skill that was almost inhuman. However, instead of just ending his life, Tavington played with him, like a cat does a mouse.

I sat there on the ground, the cold earth seeping into my legs while one hand tried to keep my ripped shirt closed as I watched the men fight. Archie had recovered, but Tavington bested him quickly with slashes, parries, and thrusts, bringing the man to his knees as blood pooled at various areas around his body. Tavington stepped right up in front of Archie, glaring at the man down his nose.

"I warned you," was all Tavington said before he drove his saber into the man's throat, baring his teeth and practically growling as blood pooled out of Archie's mouth and the light left his pale eyes. With a jerk, the saber was withdrawn, allowing the body to fall to the right while Tavington wiped the crimson liquid from the deadly steel.

Sheathing the blade, he turned and regarded me, all huddled on the ground as tears of shame, joy and fear coursed their way down my bruised cheeks. Something moved across his face, like a wave of emotion that I couldn't identify but one that was familiar. Walking over, he kneeled down and helped me to stand, my knees too weak to support me. Ignoring the state of indecency I was in, he pulled me into his arms, cradling me against his hard and warm chest while my tears continued to fall in torrents. My hands reflexively grasped onto his white shirt, bunching it in my fists to hold on for dear life as I studied his gaze that was riveted on me.

"Don't _ever_ do that again," he growled before he came down and crushed his lips to mine in a mind-blowing, nerve-tingling, searing kiss that left me with absolutely no mind activity. All my thoughts, all the fear that I had not seconds before was obliterated as his warm mouth moved against mine in a rage that was bruising on it own. I could feel his anger and fear toward me coursing from his body to mine. One of his hands moved to my lower back, under my shirt while the other came up to cup my cheek, pulling me even closer as his thumb brushed my salty tears away.

One would think that after what I went through, I would shun the contact from anyone of the male species, but no, I relished in it; the dirty feeling I had when Garrick touched me was melted under Tavington's caress.

My knees nearly gave out when his tongue probed my lips open and started a further assault on my mouth. I gave into the hunger I was feeling, dancing with Tavington in a way that was as old as time. Gently, he broke away, running kisses along my jaw and toward my neck, issuing forth more tingles to radiate across the cells of my skin in rhythmic waves of delight.

"Stephanie," he whispered against my throat, his warm breath tickling the sensitive area. I sighed, smiling and leaned more into his embrace. My name. He had finally said my name, but the jingle of horses approaching brought reality back and I gasped, startling Tavington who had made a new attack on my lips.

"Colonel," I whispered, trying vainly to push myself away from him.

"William," he choked, kissing along my neck again. "Call me William."

"William, then," I sighed trying to keep my mind focused on the matter at hand. "Ther-there's someone . . . coming."

That seemed to have broken the spell for he stopped kissing me and pulled his head back, listening as the clinking grew louder and louder. William cursed, transforming from the man that had broken out of the tough soldier shell right back into the domineering Colonel I knew. His eyes flickered downward to my half-naked state and he priced his lips in annoyance. Just as Captain Wilkins rode into the area of the deserter's camp, Tavington was wrapping his newly shed Dragoon jacket around my shoulders, more for propriety than warmth. With one final look at me, Tavington turned his back to me as he went to address his subordinate. As I watched him walk away, a small part of me was wondering where my William had gone to, but that's when I realized I was in far more trouble than I ever was before.

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**Intense, no?**


	31. Chapter 31: What Were They Thinking?

**And now, the repercussions of so ill-conceived escape attempt. Onward!**

**Chapter quote: **"Answer me this: were you trying to lure them into a false sense of security tied to that tree and all? Or were you just waiting for an opportune moment to escape?"**

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Chapter 30: What The Hell Was Anyone Thinking?**

As Colonel Tavington walked away from me, the fear that had been suppressed came swarming back into my system like a tidal wave. I quickly sank to the ground, staring blankly at the blood soaked earth and feeling the tears flooding my eyes. Crunching of rocks underfoot was a forecast that the men had dismounted and from the gasps I could hear, they were appalled by the sight of the carnage that was surrounding me.

"Captain Wilkins!" Tavington shouted.

"Sir!" The Captain answered, sitting atop his large bay stallion.

"Dispose of the seven bodies here and send a team to search for Miss Hawkins's horse, then head back to camp. I will have more orders for you when you return."

"Yes, Sir."

More crunching of boots echoed around the woods as the men scurried to obey the Colonel's orders. A pair of black boots stopped in front of me and I glanced up, looking at the disapproving eyes of Tavington. Sneering, he reached down, grabbed my forearm and hauled me to my feet.

"Get up. We're heading back to camp," he snapped.

Nodding numbly, I allowed him to drag me to his horse where he grabbed my waist, place me in the saddle, and then climbed up behind me.

"Sir, before you leave," Wilkins shouted, running up to the horse's flank.

"What is it, Wilkins?" Tavington asked annoyed, glaring down at the large man.

"Sir, there's only six bodies, not seven."

At that I pulled my eyes up sharply, looking between each of the dead men that were sprawled along the ground. Wilkins was right, there were only six bodies. Something didn't feel right. I could have sworn seven men attacked me, but I couldn't place who wasn't there, if in fact anyone was missing at all.

"Then dispose of the _six_ bodies, Captain! I don't believe it takes a genius for the job," The Colonel snarled.

"Yes, Sir," Wilkins saluted before he turned his back and began issuing directives to the soldiers.

Tavington rolled his sky-blue eyes heavenward as he kicked his stallion into motion. His arm found its way around my waist, holding me securely while his other guided the horse. Pulling the dragoon jacket closer, I sank into myself, still feeling Garrick's hands on my skin. A shudder passed through me and Tavington's grip tightened.

"That was a very idiotic thing to do, Miss Hawkins. You're lucky you weren't killed," he spoke, chastising me like a child.

"Yea, I know," I whispered, keeping my eyes lowered.

"What on earth were you thinking?" he barked gruffly.

"Well the plan in my head worked out just fine. It was just in the actual experimentation that everything went wrong," I mumbled.

"Miss Hawkins, did you not understand the implications I laid out, long before any of this began—"

"Listen, can we please _not_ talk about this," I pleaded, bringing my eyes up to him. "This isn't exactly easy for me and you belittling me like a child is not helping!"

Just then the horse stumbled and the jarring motion reopened the cut along my stomach and I hissed in pain as the skin was pulled apart.

Instantly the horse was reined to a stop under the foliage of the trees and Tavington asked gruffly, although not unkindly, "What's wrong?"

I shook my head as my eyes traveled down to my stomach. "Nothing, just a cut," but apparently it was slightly more than that. Moving his arm aside, I split the coat and my shirt, displaying an ugly red line slashed across the milky paleness of my skin like a snake. Little droplets of blood were smeared where the clothing had been while new ones formed creating little ridges.

"Did they do that to you?" he asked, almost shocked.

Covering myself back up I nodded. I couldn't look at him or anything for that matter. I could only feel the shame and disgust aimed entirely at myself. Why couldn't I stop them, fight them and win? I had been in the militia for Christ's sacks! I should have fought with the courage and bloodlust I had all those months ago. Instead my stupid fear took over and I was left cowering against a tree while some hormone incompetent man felt me up. What the hell was I thinking?

"What else did they do?" Tavington asked, kicking his horse forward again. I just shrugged and kept my mouth shut. "Miss Hawkins, answer me." Silence. "That was an order, not a suggestion." Again, silence. "Miss Hawkins!"

"Look, I don't feel like talking about it alright?!" I snapped. Settling back against him, I tried to sort through all the thoughts that sped through my head like a wildfire. "Why did you save me?" I voiced after a time.

"Pardon?"

"Why did you save me?" I repeated, turning around to look at him.

He kept his eyes forward unblinkingly. "Isn't it obvious?"

"If it was, I wouldn't be asking now would I?"

He rolled his eyes. "Because you are my prisoner and the only one I have for gaining information about the Ghost. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

"I don't believe you."

"And why is that?" He snapped, bringing his eyes to mine for the first time. It was then that I noticed how close we really were to each other. All I had to do was extend my neck a little and his lips would be on mine.

Mentally shaking the image from my head I replied back, "Because I have yet to give you _any_ information about Be- about the Ghost, nor do I intend to do so. You at least act smart, surely you already know that?"

The colonel sighed and remained silent.

Frowning slightly I focused my eyes foreword again. "Thank you," I whispered at length, feeling almost defeated. "For saving my life."

Behind me, Tavington stiffened slightly before relaxing again. "You're welcome," he replied tenderly.

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The tip of the sun had just cleared the horizon like a golden disk when the camp came into view. Quickly Tavington dismounted when we reached his tent. Glancing around the camp, I allowed the Colonel to encircle my waist with his hands and gently help me dismount. My feet hit the ground with a thud, but the Colonel did not remove his hands from my waist, almost pulling me closer to him. I glanced up into his face; my own twisted in confusion as he stared at me, that same strange emotion lacing through his eyes. 

Seemingly to break out of the trance, Tavington cleared his throat and stepped back, releasing me. He pulled the tough canvas flap of his tent aside, inviting me to enter as he called for a Private to take care of his horse.

Cautiously, as if I was walking on broken glass I entered the rich yellow light of the tent, glancing around at the supreme neatness that reached me. Everything was still in working order, not a paper out of place or a piece of clothing left conspicuously out. As I did every time I entered his tent, my eyes invariably turned to the corner post where I had been tied all those weeks ago. Had I really only been here for a few months? It seems like it's been an eternity.

The Colonel walked in behind me and I spun around, pulling the jacket closer around me, invariably making it possible for me to smell his scent, inciting a warm feeling to grow in my belly.

"Are you going to tie me up like last time?" The words left my mouth before I could stop them and cursed myself silently for sounding so helpless and forlorn. A corner of his mouth lifted and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I don't think it will be necessary unless you want me to?" _Wow does **that** sound kinky._

"No that's alright. I think I can live without it." I sighed and looked at the ground, feeling like I wanted to cry all over again. I didn't escape, I wasn't free and safe, I had lost my horse, nearly been raped and had the man that had kissed me so passionately earlier, standing there looking at me almost sympathetically. Isn't life just peachy?

"Miss Hawkins? Are you alright?" Tavington asked stepping closer to me and reaching out as if he wanted to comfort me.

"I would be lying if I said I was," I answered, bringing my eyes back to his, suppressing my feelings for another time and another place. Right now was not the time to completely fall apart. I took a deep breath and let it out. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. I'm a lot stronger than you think."

He raised an eyebrow. "Indeed." Growing serious, he dropped his hand and growled, "Tell me, do you enjoy near death experiences for you seem unnaturally prone to them."

Snapping my eyes back to his, for they had been wandering around the tent, I stared at him in shock. "Wha- no! I had everything well in . . . hand," I tried to defend myself.

"Oh yes, that was painfully obvious." He took a step closer to me. "Answer me this: were you trying to lure them into a false sense of security tied to that tree and all? Or were you just waiting for an opportune moment to escape?"

I stared at him incredulously. "Who's to say it wouldn't have worked if you hadn't come barging in? Seriously, where the hell do you get off judging my mistake," I barked, placing my hands on my hips, perpetually opening the jacket and giving Tavington a perfect few of my front, not that I noticed. "So I messed up, it happens."

"Well if you hadn't run away, none of this would have happened," he countered again taking a step towards me, keeping his eyes level with mine.

_He can't seriously be saying this. _"If you hadn't threatened my life all the time, I wouldn't have run away!"

He smiled, apparently enjoying this little spout. "Well you should have given me the information I seek." Now he was standing right in front of me, staring down his nose and into my eyes as his fingers lightly brushed down my bruised cheek.

"Well you should learn you can't always get what you want," I snapped in an attempt to calm the wild beatings of my heart. Tavington opened his mouth to add another argument, but a shout from camp stopped the words from issuing. Both of us turned our attention to the commotion outside. Without a look back, Tavington stomped his way out of the tent, with me on his heels.

Outside in the blinding sunlight of a new day, Captain Wilkins came barreling up on his horse, barely allowing it to stop before his feet hit the ground.

"Captain Wilkins, what is the meaning of this?" Tavington barked, clearly pissed at being so rudely interrupted.

"Sir!" Wilkins saluted. "We found something in the woods that, well in all honesty is quite confusing. We think you should take a look at it."

Several more dragoon soldiers rode up, one carrying a particularly interesting case and another leading Lainathiel.

"My guitar!" I shouted, recognizing the black plastic case that one dragoon was handing to another. I ran forward past Tavington and Wilkins, ignoring all confused stares and grabbed the familiar handle, pulling the case to me.

"Miss Hawkins, would you care to explain please?" Tavington snapped in agitation.

"It's my guitar," I elaborated, setting the case on the ground and examining it. The black plastic was certainly dirty, dented in some places and scratched in others. It looked as if it had been through hell and back, making me worry for the prize that lay inside.

"Yes, but what is a . . . guitar?" Wilkins asked, just as confused as everyone else.

Flipping up the silver buckles holding the case together, I gently opened the lid holding in a baited breath as it swung open, reveling an object that was as close to my heart as my family.

"It's in instrument, Captain Wilkins," I said, my eyes pinned on the molded wood. Although the case looked horrible, inside the guitar looked good as new. The soft, black, fur lining had protected the fragile wood, preventing any damage from coming to it. Picking the guitar up by the neck, I extracted it from the case as if it were Swarovski crystal, examining the wood closely for any kind of imperfections. The dark wood of the neck was flawless, as was the body of the guitar. None of the strings were broken, nor was the bridge, any of the machine heads, or the headstock cracked. I sighed in relief until I strummed the six strings, wincing from them being out of tune.

"Is this all that you found, Captain?" Tavington asked.

"No, Sir," Wilkins replied, still staring at me oddly. "We found it in something--"

"In something?" I interrupted, placing the guitar back in its case and standing up after securely locking it in.

"Yes, a very large twisted piece of metal. It's nothing like anything I have ever seen."

For the millionth time that day my heart froze painfully in my chest. "Twisted piece of metal?" Tavington asked incredulously.

"Where is it?" I asked, stepping forward. The urgency in my voice was not lost on them.

"I don't think this concerns you, Miss Hawkins," Tavington chastised, sending a glare at me.

I glanced over at him, feeling more emotions and a second wind entering my system. "Actually, I think it does." I turned my attention back to Wilkins. "Where did you find what you described?"

"About 500 feet north from the deserter's camp," he explained, pointing behind me. I turned my head in the direction of his finger. "Why?"

Without a word, I bent down and picked up my guitar, scurrying over to my tent while shouts of "Miss Hawkins" echoed behind me. Pushing the flap of my extremely saggy tent aside, I dropped the case on the ground near the upturned cot and spun around to head back out when I collided with something very hard. Then that very hard thing grew arms that wrapped around my waist, steadying me. I glanced upwards into Colonel Tavington's face as warmth spread through me like I had just dropped into a bath as our gazes locked.

"And just _where_ are you going, Miss Hawkins?" he asked.

Without even thinking I answered, "To drop off my guitar, get my saddle bags, change into a shirt that doesn't expose the top-half of me to the rest of the world, and go check out the thing that Wilky-boy was talking about." I paused a moment. "Yea, I think that sums it up right there."

I could tell that Tavington was desperately trying to not roll his eyes, a battle he eventually lost.

"Miss Hawkins, you must be the daftest woman I know. Do you honestly believe that after what happen not two hours ago, I would just let you go gallivanting off after some strange report?" I tried to focus on what he was saying, really I did, but the fact that his hands were so comfortably sitting just above my hips drew my mind elsewhere.

"Um . . . yes?"

He raised one slender brow. "Think again, Miss Hawkins."

"Well, what if you or one of the dragoons came with me? You have to check this thing out sooner or later, so couldn't I just . . . maybe . . . tag along?" I asked, stepping back and out of his hold, even though I wanted nothing more than to bury myself in it. My god, it's amazing how one life and death situation can turn a person's world upside down.

Tavington opened his mouth to decline my request; however, before he could utter one syllable I cut him off.

"Please," I pleaded, stepping forward slightly and turning on the puppy-dog eyes. "I can't explain right now why it's so important that I go. I just need to." He gave one of his famous 'Tavington looks' that read 'and I should let you . . . why?' I sighed, "Try to understand—"

"It's difficult to understand anything when one is not given the reasons why," he countered, interrupting me.

I sighed, running a hand down my exhausted face, trying desperately to ward off sleep. "Ok, true. But I still can't tell you, and trust me when I say, you don't want to know."

Tavington pierced his lips in frustration, sizing me up with his eyes. Heat built in my cheeks, but I kept my gaze steady with his. After only a few seconds he sighed in resignation, saying to me, "Very well. You may accompany Captain Wilkins and I to this supposed site, but any attempt at escape and I _will_ shoot you."

Squealing with apparent happiness and ignoring the last statement, I threw my arms around his neck; my body acting before my brain realized what it was doing. Widening my eyes in shock, I let go and jumped back away from him hastily.

"I-uh understand, th-thank you," I half-laughed, trying to cover up the embarrassment I was feeling, even though my face felt as if Mount Doom was erupting on it, it was so hot.

Clearing his throat and looking quite ruffled, Tavington muttered, "of course," then turned and left my tent. Turning my cot back over, I sat on it and buried my head in my hands, asking myself what the hell I was thinking?

* * *

Tavington POV 

_What the hell was he thinking?_ Tavington thought as he left Stephanie's tent and stepped into the bright sunlight. Honestly, allowing her to come with him on an investigation that he didn't even want to go on in the first place was absurd and completely ridiculous. Silently Tavington cursed himself and the woman under his jurisdiction as he stomped his way to his tent, intending to make himself at least somewhat presentable for the day.

Entering his tent, Tavington had to restrain himself from kicking the trunks that stood off to the side. Bloody hell, that woman was getting under his skin, and he hated it.

Tavington sighed after he finished tying his queue and sat down in one of the chairs adorning his tent, running a hand across his face and feeling the wariness of the night finally dawning in him. He had been up since well before dawn, and then with that fight in the woods, any energy reserves he had were long gone.

Tavington dropped his hand and sat brooding, he mouth ceased in an angry frown. An angry aggression had come over him when he had entered those woods, one that he had never experienced, even in battle. Sure, he was known for his bloodlust in combat and lack of mercy, but he was always cold and distant at those times, just doing his job. When he saw what that man was doing to Stephanie, however, all hell broke loose inside of him. He wanted to take that man and rip him apart one limb at a time because he _dared_ to put his hands on her. Tavington didn't want to think about what would have happened had he followed Wilkins and Bordon and not heard that gun shot. She would probably be dead for all he knew, and that made his heart drop painfully in his chest.

Good Lord what had she done to him? He knew he was in trouble the minute he saw her staring at him when a knife was held to her throat. She was silently begging for him to save her, placing all her trust in him to escape.

And when he held her shaking, terrified form in his arms, he wanted nothing more than to wipe away all of her fears and pain; to just hold her and protect her from the world. He made a vow at that moment that no harm would ever come to her when he was around, and that, more than anything, genuinely scared Tavington. He was not a man who lost his heart to anyone of the female gender, especially to a girl who was listed as an enemy and who he would have killed without a second thought before.

Then to add insult to injury, he had kissed her, the biggest mistake of them all. For weeks he had been invisioning her in his arms, holding the girl that had entraped him at the ball. That one moment, when she was scared and helpless, Tavington saw that girl again, and could not stop his actions. His body had a will of its own, and so apparently did hers. The way she responded to him made his blood boil and the muscles in his stomach tighten almost painfully. Tavington could still feel her pressed up against him, her soft skin smelling like honey and her lips tasting sweeter than nectar from the gods. How far he would have gone, had Wilkins decided to not apear, Tavington didn't know.

For only one moment, in the seclusion of his tent did Tavington allow himself that one moment of weakness, to feel something for that girl that was beyond the hatred he thought he had. After that one moment, he stood up, commanding and rigid as before and left his tent. He made a promise that he would take her and so he shall, but the less time he was around Miss Stephanie Hawkins, militia-woman of the Ghost, the better he would be.

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**If I make it to 200 reviews, Tavington cookies all around! (and maybe an update. wink wink)**


	32. Chapter 32: Songs of the Heart

**In honor of the release of _Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End_ I'm posting early. Saw it yesterday. Oh. My. God! Also because you guys are awsome and gave me far more reviews than I was expecting. Tavington cookies all around!**

**Chapter quote: **For so long I had denied myself the idea of even caring for him, but I did, more than anyone else.

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**Chapter 31: Songs of the Heart**

Riding back into the woods was a very tense affair, so thick you could cut it with a knife. Tavington and Captain Wilkins rode ahead of me, talking quietly amongst themselves, if they even spoke at all. I hung back, sitting atop Lainathiel as she plodded along behind their stallions through the thickening foliage. Keeping my eyes on the ground, I merely sat there in deep concentration, trusting my horse to follow her counter parts. Maybe my hastiness to join the men on this excursion was actually a bad idea. I mean, what if the hunk of metal isn't what I'm thinking? Well then me tagging along has absolutely no importance at all and is a waste. However, if the thing _is_ what I'm thinking then . . .

I shook my head dramatically, erasing the confusing thoughts from my brain. My head was already pounding from the abuse I had faced, and until the Advil I took kicked in, stopping any kind of deep thinking was the only way I was going to function.

I readjusted myself in the saddle, cursing the heavy skirt I was wearing and the fact that I had to ride side-saddle in said skirt. I sighed and closed my eyes in sleepiness, humming a song that just popped into my head.

"What are you humming?"

I jumped and snapped my eyes open, turning my dark orbs to glance at Tavington. _Jeeze, I didn't even hear him come alongside me._

"A song," I answered, turning my eyes forward to watch the back of Wilkins horse. I could feel his stare on me, making my cheeks heat in embarrassment as I ducked under a particularly low branch.

"What song?" he persisted.

"One you've probably never heard."

Surprisingly, he didn't get frustrated with me. Instead he was calm and patient, saying with almost a purr, "Sing it for me."

I sent him a disbelieving look. "What?! Why? You'll just laugh."

He raised a brow. "Have I ever laughed at you?"

"Well, no," I admitted. "But there's a first time for everything."

He rolled his eyes. "I promise I won't laugh. I'm just curious; I've never heard that tune before." _No you wouldn't have, would you?_ I thought to myself.

I never knew it was possible, but Tavington had his own set of puppy-dog eyes, although they looked more ridiculous than persuasive, but they worked all the same.

Rolling my own eyes, I muttered a diminutive, "Fine," then set about getting the correct key. Once I had it in my head, I turned my eyes back to the ground and sung, "_When you find yourself . . . in some far off place . . . and it causes you . . . to rethink some things. You start to sense, that slowly you're becoming someone else . . . and then you find yourself. That's when you find yourself . . . Well you go through life, so sure of where you're heading . . . and then you wind up lost and it's the best thing that could happen. 'Cause sometimes when, you lose your way, it's really just as well. 'Cause then you find yourself; yea that's when you find yourself._

"I'm afraid that's all I can remember," I ended in a sigh, bringing my eyes back up to Tavington's. Okay, that was a lie, but in all honesty, singing in front of him was quite nerve-racking.

He nodded his head, turning his attention forward and seemingly to dismiss me. For some reason, that made my heart clench a little. Frowning, I dropped my eyes back to the ground, angling my head so I didn't have to see him in my peripheral vision.

"It's almost a haunting melody," Tavington spoke quietly a few a few moments of silence. I turned back to him. "Who taught you to sing?"

For only a moment did I let confusion cross my features, but mentally shrugging I answered, "My mother did; as she taught my brothers." **_And you decided to share that . . . why?_**

_I have no idea._

"Brothers?" he questioned, focusing all his attention on me.

My mouth went dry when I stared into the haunting blue-depth of his eyes. With a gigantic mental tug, I brought my focus back to earth and chocked out, "Y-yes. I had three older brothers."

"You had? Are they no longer living?" Although his comment was a bit blunt and slightly mocking when he spoke, there was a soft tendril of sympathy in his eyes.

"No they're not." My tone was clipped, telling Tavington silently that I didn't wish to discuss the subject. Thankfully he was a smart man and changed the subject.

"I had older brothers myself," he began. "Two; Henry and Charles. I haven't spoken to either of them in over three years."

"That's unfortunate,"—he snorted at my idiotic response—"Any sisters?"

He outright chuckled at my question. "No, much to my mother's displeasure. She always said that she wished to have a daughter so she could bring more civility into our house. I'm afraid raising three boys brought too much chaos into her world."

I laughed, feeling my spirit rise. "I can imagine that. My brothers were always going at each other: wrestling, fighting, having various types of water wars and such outside. That is of course, if they weren't on a united front and came after me."

Tavington chuckled next to me. "Brotherly love?"

"Ha! More like brotherly beating reserved only for their sister. But I had one force on my side they could never mess with. . . ." I smiled coyly.

"And that was?" Tavington asked when I was not forthcoming with the answer.

My smile grew. "Dad. I was his only little girl, so there was no serious horse-play involving me whenever he was around. And if there was, he would ally himself with me, and then Bryan, James and Tommy were totally screwed."

Somehow, through a new sixth sense I must have developed, I knew the good humor Tavington was feeling had evaporated. "You and your brothers were close with your father?" It was meant to be coy and nonchalant, but I knew there was a deeper meaning.

"Pretty close," I acquiesced, figuring that he was thinking of his own father. "I mean, we had our moments when it felt like a civil war was happening in my house, but in the end it all worked out." I sighed, glancing heavenward and wondering if my parents were watching and looking after me. If they approved the life I had decided to lead in this new time. "What I wouldn't give to see them again."

Tavington frowned. "When did they die?"

Mirroring his face, I aligned my eyes with his. "When I was eighteen, four years ago."

With that the conversation came to end when our horses plodded into a small clearing and there, situated against a tree, laid my beaten and mangled car.

With my eyes focused unwavering on the twisted metal, I reined Lainathiel to a stop. Without looking at Tavington or Wilkins, I hopped down from the saddle, pulling the reigns over Lainathiel's chestnut head, and began walking slowly towards the piece of my past.

Behind me I heard Tavington order Wilkins to check and secure the perimeter, but I ignored them and continued my way forward, dropping the reigns once I was within ten feet. My heart was beating wildly while my emotions were barely checked behind the shocked mask of my face. After all this time, the one thing that had always boggled me was sitting there right before my eyes.

My car, my poor mangled car. It didn't even look like a car anymore. The front end was completely ripped apart, various pieces of metal strewn about in tangled masses. The roof was caved in on the passenger side of the vehicle, looking almost as if the trailer part of the truck had rolled onto it while the driver's side, the one facing me, had a large scrap along the side where I had hit the Jersey barrier, a concert wall separating the different flows of traffic. Much of the black paint had been scraped off allowing the metal to rust after years of expose to rain, snow, and air.

Walking cautiously up to it, I could feel the ground under my feet crackle as I stepped on broken glass buried under the leaves. I circled around the car, taking in every detail, every scratch and mark and dent. On the other side, the complete front corner of the former Toyota Camry was gone, as if someone had taken a tool and shaved it off, leaving broken metal in its wake. The wheels were at odd angles and a couple of the doors were opened because they were so beaten they couldn't lock. Walking forward again, I ran my hand along the cold metal as sunlight streaked down through the leaves and fell onto the car, making the black paint that was left sparkle and shine. Reaching the trunk, I hefted it up in hopes to find something in its depths. No such luck. Only leaves, dirt and tools to change a flat. _I guess I won't be needing that anymore._

Closing the trunk I walked back around to the driver's side, staring at the area I had been sitting when the huge blue truck had swerved. Even years later, I could still feel the lurch in my heart as I watched, could still feel my body tensing, could still smell the vanilla of my air freshener that was hanging morosely from the bent rearview mirror. I had thought for one horrible moment that I was going to die, but somehow I had been given a reprieve. Some divine power must have taken pity on me, for a reason that I can't comprehend.

I closed my eyes against the pain in my chest, cursing the past that always plagued me in my mind. Taking a deep breath and then letting it out, I opened my eyes and sunk to my knees, finally registering a horrible realization. I was never going to go home, at least not in this lifetime. I would be forever stuck in the eighteenth century with no blood family or any kind of familiarity that was only found in 2006.

I gasped as emotional pain rocked my body, covering my face with my hands as I began to sob for the loss of my family, of my home, and of myself. The dampness of the leaves quickly soaked through the layers of skirts and petticoats, chilling my legs. I didn't care, numb to all feeling but my emotions.

Just as suddenly as the wave of emotion had come, an arm was wrapped around my shoulders and I was pulled into a warm cradle, a barrier that blocked all the world out and allowed me to just kneel there and cry. A hand came up and stroked my hair as soothing words were mumbled close to my ear. That made me cry even harder. The arms around me tightened as I clutched to the green edges of the dragoon jacket, the second time in barely twenty-four hours. Bloody hell, I needed to put myself together.

With a great battled raging inside me, I managed to control my crying, finally able to stop the water works all together. Taking several deep breaths, I opened my eyes and glanced upwards, looking directly into the face of the Colonel. My heart froze, like a sharp needle blazing through my chest. I wanted him, so badly it hurt. For so long I had denied myself the idea of even caring for him, but I did, more than anyone else.

I don't even know why I wanted him. After all, how can one care for someone who had verbally and physically abused you; having killed your brother on top of that? It didn't make sense, but never before had my life made sense; why would it change now?

I was lied. I did know why I wanted him. Thinking back, I remember all those times I had watched _The Patriot_ at home, including the deleted scenes. They painted a different picture of the Colonel. Sure he was cruel, but in actuality, he was merely a man trying to take his family's name out of the gutter and make a life for himself. His father had squandered his inheritance; Tavington had nothing left. And then, the only man that was a father figure to him, Cornwallis, treated Tavington like crap. I know why I wanted him. I had pitied him, sympathized with him, and now I cared for him. Damn it all to hell and back!

Tavington must have seen the change in my demeanor and wordlessly helped me to my feet. Draping an arm around my waist, he escorted my back to my horse, almost acting as if I was some kind of porcelain doll. Maybe the whole experience last night had an effect on him as it did me. Who really knew?

Sighing in resignation I muttered a diminutive apology to the Colonel.

"For what?" he asked, turning me so I was looking at him.

"For everything," I replied humbly. "For having to save me, for making you take me here, for turning on the damn water works!" I sniffed, turning my head away from him. "I'm not one who cries all the time, Colonel. For me to do so in front of someone is . . . distressing to say the least." I forced myself to meet his gaze. His face was an impenetrable mask. "I won't forget what you have done for me. I just . . ." I sighed. "I don't know, forget it." I turned to mount back up, but a gentle grip on my arm brought me back around.

"Just what?" Tavington whispered, reaching up to gently wipe a crystal tear that was sliding down my cheek. Without even meaning to, my eyes flashed down to his lips before they righted themselves at his gaze. I noticed he did the same, that same mysterious passion entering his eyes the instant ours became locked again. He leaned down slightly and I rose onto my tiptoes, all the while watching his eyes. His breath hit my cheek, causing a faint blush to rise as I felt my heart beating wildly. Just as our lips were about to touch, a twig snapped, startling us both and forcing us apart with such force, one would think we were electrocuted.

Turning my back to him, I hoped Tavington hadn't seen the bright red color that stained my cheeks. My god, the last thing I wanted him to know was how much he had an effect, because he would use it against me. Of that I had no doubt.

With a practiced movement I was in the saddle as Wilkins rode into the little area we were in, completely oblivious to what had almost transpired moments before. He saluted to his commander and nodded his head at me in greeting, letting us know that the area was secure. He did mention seeing a set of footprints, but I was in my own little world, so I paid little attention to him.

We rode back to camp in silence. Wilkins led with me in the middle and Tavington behind. I could feel that stare on me and tried my best to ignore it. It was disconcerting, to say the least, that I had almost kissed him. I had tried hard to forget about the incident in the woods, but the harder I worked to remove it, the more resistance I was met with, both in mind and the outside world. I sighed, feeling more and more wariness creep into my bones. All I wanted was to lie down and sleep forever. To forget what had happened and what may happen should I stay within any kind of proximity to Colonel Tavington. I sighed. Life was getting far too complicated.

* * *

And the complications only increased. That night, after a very long nap, I was sitting outside my tent, tuning my guitar when a presence walked over and sat next to me. Glancing up I met the dark eyes of Captain Wilkins. Barely controlling my revulsion for the man who had turned against his neighbors, I nodded to him and then went back to plucking the third and fourth strings. 

"Can I help you, Captain?" I asked.

"No, no, I was just curious," he answered nervously.

I glanced over at him. "Curious? About what?"

He pointed to my guitar. "Your instrument. I've never seen anything like it before. Do you know any songs for it?"

I smiled, turning to look back at the shiny wood. "I used to know a few, but they're probably lost in recesses of my mind." I looked back at him. "I'm not sure if I know full songs anymore."

He seemed to hesitate for a moment before he opened his mouth to speak. "Why don't you just play what you know? It may all come back to you."

I arched a brow, thinking. "Well . . . I suppose I could, but I have to finish tuning it first. It needs a lot of fixing."

He stood up. "That's fine; just bring it over to my tent when you're done." He pointed over to one of the slightly larger tents close to Tavington's. I gulped but nodded and went back to my instrument as he walked away. Rolling my eyes heaven ward, I wondered what had made me accept his offer, but went back to tuning. Ten minutes later I strummed the strings and sighed as the clear, pointed notes rang out in the air.

Hefting myself up, I nervously walked over to Wilkins's tent were several other men were standing around talking and laughing. I stopped in my tracks and was about to turn and run when Wilkins saw me. Smiling he gestured for me to come over, which gained the attention of the men present. Giving everyone a tense smile, I cautiously moved forward, my cheeks burning with embarrassment for some unknown reason.

"Come, Miss Hawkins! We're all waiting for you," Wilkins smiled at me, patting my shoulder as he motioned for me to sit on a log that was in view of everyone.

"Oh, Jeeze, you shouldn't have," I squeaked out. I glanced at the faces of the men surrounding me, the first time I had any real dealing with the Green Dragoons. Many of the men gave me a cold, calculating stare like Tavington would, while others outright glared in hatred. However, there were a few, like Wilkins, how had a smile of at least friendly look on their faces. "Is there . . . um, anything in particular ya'll, ah, want to hear?" I asked everyone nervously.

"Play whatever you'd like, Miss Hawkins," Wilkins replied, sitting down on another log. He looked like a kid in a candy shop, leaving me feeling very confused. Placing the body of the guitar on my right knee, I held the neck in my left hand and reached over so I could reach the strings.

"Al-alight." I did a mental check of the songs I definitely knew the beginnings of and started strumming, very, very confused by this improvised performance. Opening my mouth, I began to sing in tempo with the chords_. "Feels like I have always known you . . . and I swear I dreamt about you . . . all those endless nights I was alone . . . It's like I've spent forever searching . . . now I know that it was worth it . . . with you it feels like I am finally home. Falling head over heels, thought I knew how it feels, but with you it's like the first day of my life. . ." _I glance up and saw Tavington leave his tent, looking our way._ "Cuz you leave me speechless when you talk to me. You leave me breathless the way you look at me. You manage to disarm me; my soul is shining through. Can't help but surrender my everything to you."_ His eyes caught mine and I hurriedly looked away, watching my fingers fit themselves into the familiar shape of the chords.

_"I thought I could resist you. . . I thought that I was strong. . . Somehow you were different from what I've known. . . I didn't see you coming . . . You took me by surprise and you stole my heart before I could say no. Falling head over heels, thought I knew how it feels, but with you it's like the first day of my life." _

This time when I raised my eyes, holding that last note out in verbato, Tavington had moved so he was in the back of the group that had formed. His eyes and mine locked and this time I didn't look away, but held them as I sang, "_You leave me speechless when you talk to me. You leave me breathless the way you look at me. You manage to disarm me; my soul is shining through. I can't help but surrender my everything to you. The way you smile, the way you touch my face. You leave me breathless, it's something that you do I can't explain. I'd run a million miles just to hear you say my name . . . Baby." _His eyes were unwavering, unmoving. They bore into my soul as my song poured out of my heart, practically shouting to the world how I really felt.

"_You leave me speechless. You leave me breathless the way you look at me. You manage to disarm me; my soul is shining through. I can't help but surrender  
my everything to you." _I strummed the last chord and let it echo into the growing silence of night, my focus sorely on Tavington.

As soon as the notes had died away, everyone began clapping except for Tavington. He smiled at me, and then turned around, walking back leisurely to his tent. I stared after him, one brow arched while many of the men around me were begging for an encore. Shaking my head, I started and played three other songs before I was able to successfully walk away, pleading severe pain in my finger tips. I dropped my guitar back in its case when I reached my tent before flopping on my bed, an irate Lily jumping up after me and snuggling into my side. A lot had happened in only twenty-four hours, but I knew that it was the beginning of something far greater. And I was scared shitless for what it might be.

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**Congrats to ZukoLuver, jessiegurl2, and J. B. Duenweg for figuring out it was her car! **

**Review!**


	33. Chapter 33: Stories

**You guys were a little quiet this week. Maybe this chapter will stir some of ya'll up. So please, review!**

**Chapter quote: **"'Philosophy is the science which considers truth'"

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**Chapter 32: Stories**

Weeks passed after the incident in the woods. For those weeks I had avoided Tavington as much as was humanly possible. He seemed to have finally given up on trying to procure information from me, much to my relief.

As the days continue to lengthen and the weather began to warm, a happiness came over me that happened after every winter. Spring and Summer were my favorite seasons; a time of renewal and life. Since I was left to my own devices now (well except for O'Hurley), I began to take many walks along the river bank and through the field corralling the horses, singing to myself more often than not. My music was my life, and it was one of the few things that kept me sane.

I even took to dancing again, although it was more marking then full fledge dancing. Somehow I had convinced O'Hurley that I wasn't planning on running away anytime soon, so he gave enough space that I might be able to dance in the privacy of my own little area by the river.

Sitting by the river after one incredibly long session, I was ideally listening to my ipod when a very ironic sing came on. _I Won't Say (I'm In Love)_ from Hercules began to blare through my head phones. Rolling my eyes at whatever fate, spirit, or godly power that had been hinting at me, I turned the MP3 player off, stuffing it in my pack that I carried with me, and sat looking at the gentle flow of the water.

Was I really in love? Ever since the incident, I hadn't been able to remove the Colonel from my mind for more than a moment. He haunted my thoughts, he haunted my dreams, he was bloody _everywhere!_ I had even dropped my anger towards him. I couldn't be in love, I just couldn't. It must be extreme attraction, it's the only excuse. As Megera said, _No man is worth the aggravation. That's ancient history: been there, done that._ And I had. I had my experience with the male species, and it ended horribly. I was _not_, under any circumstance going to do that again. To be left behind while _he_ moves on to bigger and better things.

Steeling my resolve, I stood and made my way back to camp, leaving those thoughts by the river. Keeping my eyes lowered, I wandered through the rows of follower's tents when I heard a small cry. Glancing up, I saw a woman a few years younger than me with straight, dark brown hair carrying a huge pile of clothes in a basket too small for that amount. The basket and such were swaying precariously as she tried to maneuver them forward. Quickly I ran over and grabbed the top of the pile before the clothes would fall and land in the dirt.

The girl, with my help, gently set the basket on the ground, looking over the pile that came to our shoulders at me with a grateful expression.

"Thank you, Miss. You really saved me just then," she smiled with soft green eyes.

"It was no problem," I smiled in return, and then turned to head back to my tent.

"Wait!" she called. I turned back to look at her as she ran up to me. "I don't mean to ask, but could you help me bring these clothes to the river so I may wash them. I'm afraid there's far too much, and I can't handle them all on my own." Her eyes were pleading with me.

Curious as to why she was asking me, of all people for help, I shrugged and replied, "Sure."

"Oh thank you!" We both walked over to the pile again, and with our combined efforts, lifted the basket and clothes up, heading toward the river with O'Hurley grumbling as he followed behind.

"I'm Caroline," she said breathlessly as we stumbled along. "Caroline McKay."

"Stephanie," I replied. "Um, Hawkins."

"It's very nice to meet you Stephanie," she smiled over the clothes. I knew instantly that I liked that girl.

* * *

"So you're the prisoner the women go on about!" Caroline explained after I had explained the Reader's Digest version of my tale of captivity. We were sitting by the river, the clothes drying as they lay over bushes and hung from the branches of the trees, swaying lightly in the warm breeze. 

"Yes'm, that'll be me."

"How terribly exciting!" I gave Caroline an incredulous look.

"Pardon me?"

"It's like an adventure tale from a story!" she cried out, her green eyes sparkling. "The courageous heroine who risked life and limb to save her loved ones, sacrificing herself for them. It must have been terrifying."

Thinking back I had to smile. "It was to a point. I was too angry and stubborn to actually care, however."

She shook her head, pulling her knees up and under her dark blue skirt. "I could never have done what you did. I would be too afraid. It's frightening enough to be here, and then having to watch my father go off and fight. Every time he leaves I pray fervently that he'll come back to me alive."

Losing my smiled, I sighed and glanced away. I knew I shouldn't really care, but after being in the camp for so long, I had seen the other side of the war and I knew they were fighting for their lives just as we were. My guilt at killing so many redcoats was building fast.

Caroline frowned, and reached a delicate hand to my shoulder. "Stephanie? Are you alright? Did I say something wrong?"

Plastering a reassuring smile on my face I shook my head and regarded her. "No, you didn't, I was just thinking. How old are you Caroline?"

Taking he hand from my shoulder, she gently folded her hands in her lap. "I'm eighteen."

I nodded. "I was your age when I came to live in South Carolina, only I was safe in a very nice house, staying with a very nice family. I was protected and well cared for. You are, if nothing, just as brave if not braver for being here than I am."

Her eyes widened momentarily. "Are you being serious?" she asked.

Smiling, I replied, "I never lie. Now c'mon, let's get these clothes back to the camp."

* * *

That night I wondered over the field housing the horses, an apple tucked into the pocket of my blue skirt as my white cotton shirt blew around in the breeze. Smiling to myself, I sat down under the same tree I had hid behind when I had made my attempt at escape. With a whistle, Lainathiel came over, eating the apple happily out of my outstretched hands. I laughed and pushed her nuzzle away as she began sorting through my persons, looking for more delicious treats. 

"Ok, no more for you. You'll get fat," I laughed. She snorted and glanced away as if telling me she wouldn't gain the weight. "Yes you would, Lainathiel." Snorting again, she pushed me with her head, making me fall over to the side. "Hey you silly horse, don't do that!"

Lainathiel continued on forcing me to roll the side to avoid her attacks. Sighing in resignation, I ran over to the truck of the tree, jumped up to grab a branch and scrambled into its depths, letting my feet dangle above the ground as I sat in the neck of a particularly large branch.

Laughing, I yelled down to her, "Ha! You can't reach me here!" She neighed morosely and hung her head. Smiling, I leaned against the trunk of the tree, looking to the sky line through the newly formed leaves as one foot came up and rested in front of me. Pulling my ipod out of my pocket, I put one headphone in my ear and hit shuffle songs. _Wild Horses_ by Natasha Bedingfield began playing. Without even a thought I sang with her, keeping my voice low.

My heart was beating painfully as I sang, thinking of how much I wanted to tell Tavington that I actually cared, but so afraid that he could never, would never feel the same for me. Why would he?

"_All I want is the wind in my hair, to face the fear but, not feel scared. Wild horses I wanna be like you, throwing caution to the wind, I'll run free too. Wish I could recklessly love, like I'm longing to. I wanna run with the wild horses, run with the wild horses! Recklessly abandoning myself before you, how I wanna open up my heart tell him how I feel . . ."_

I glanced upwards at the stars, silently praying for some kind of divine intervention or guidance. _"Wild horses I wanna be like you. Throwing caution to the wind, I'll run free too. Wish I could recklessly love, like I'm longing to, I wanna run with the wild horses, run with the wild horses . . . . . . . __I wanna run with the wild horses."_

I sighed as the song came to a quiet end.

"Why is it whenever I come upon you, you always seem to be singing?" a voice called below me. Jolting from surprise, I toppled out of the tree with a scream, landing rather ungracefully on the ground five feet below.

Cursing, I sat up, brushing the stray grass from my hair and clothes and looked upwards into the amused face of Tavington, who was standing there, leaning against the trunk of the tree.

"I bet you find this terribly funny, don't you?" I growled, pushing myself to stand up.

"It is quite amusing," he agreed, making no move to help me.

"Glad I could be the source of your amusement," I muttered sarcastically. I took a step forward and winced, nearing falling back down. Immediately a hand grabbed my arm steadying me.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Nodding I answered, "Yea, I just twisted my ankle." I sighed in frustration. "Don't worry; I just need to walk it off. It's not like this is the first time."

Tavington quirked an eyebrow, not letting me go. "You've done this before?"

I snorted. "More times than I can count. I'm not what you call 'graceful' when it comes to walking or, in this case, sitting in trees." I glanced up at the branch I had been sitting on. "I have to say, I'm surprised I didn't break anything." Tavington glanced up as well.

"That was one hell of a fall," he remarked.

Glimpsing down, I saw my ipod and the little book I had in my pocket, laying on the grass. Squeaking inwardly, I bent down to retrieve the items, but Tavington had noticed my look and reached one of them first. Luckily I had grabbed my ipod before he did, but he did manage to grab the book.

"What book is this?" he asked, flipping the pages. I attempted to make a grab at it, but he held it out of my reach.

Growling, I said "It's called _Einstein's Dreams._ It's about different theories of time."

"Theories of time?" For once Tavington looked confused, which made me smile on the inside. Taking the book back I secured it in my pocket along with my ipod.

"Yea, theories of time. You know, like if the world was going to end, and everyone knew the time it would, how different the world would be, or if the effect came before the cause. There's even one about time being like a river, and some people, say from the future, get swept back into the past. Things like that." I quirked a look at him, gauging his reaction to the last example.

"What sort of rubbish is that?" he barked.

I laughed. "It's not rubbish, it's philosophy. I expected you to be one for philosophy, Colonel."

"Philosophy is a trivial pursuit," Tavington responded.

"'Philosophy is the science which considers truth,'" I quoted, smiling at him.

He gave me a surprised glance. "Aristotle?"

My smiled widened, slightly impressed. "Correct. Didn't know I was this smart did you?"

"I will admit that I am slightly impressed with your knowledge," he acquiesced. "The fact that you can read floors me to no end."

I gave him an incredulous look. "Why? Because I wasn't born in England and went to some high-and-mighty boarding school? Well, where I come from, everyone is taught in school, regardless or race, class or gender and in fact it's illegal to stop a child from attending school."

"And where _do_ you come from, Miss Hawkins? You don't have the customary drawl that comes from living in South Carolina."

I dropped my eyes. "I come from somewhere very, very far away, Colonel." I turned my back on him and gimped over to stroke Lainathiel. A moment later his black gloved hand had taken mine, making me turn and face him.

"How far away could your home possibly be?" he purred, pulling my arm so I had to take a few steps closer to him. He reached up and brushed a few fingers gentle down my cheek, making my mouth run dry. I closed my eyes and leaned into the touch.

Suddenly my mind registered what I was doing and I snapped back to reality, practically jumping back away from Tavington. "Stop doing that!" I snapped, trying vainly to calm my beating heart.

Tavington quirked his head confused. "Doing what?"

"Being so bloody confusing, that's what!"

He smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Indeed and how am I 'bloody confusing'?"

Placing my hands on my hips I started rattling off examples. "Well one moment you're this horrible block of ice that has absolutely no emotion at all and the next you're actually human, being all gentle and kind and seemingly to actually _care_. It's like you're a completely different person; a regular Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde."

Stepping closer to me, he wrapped and arm around my waist, pulling me to him. "And why do _you_ care?"

I couldn't look him in the eye, his stare was so potent, so prodding as if he couldn't believe I would care. "I don't know," I sighed, catching my lip between my teeth. For once I was telling the truth to him. I didn't know why I cared so much. Maybe because I felt we shared something now, a bond that was wrought from the danger we both faced. Maybe it was because I _needed_ someone to care for and he was the only person in need of that caring. Whatever the reason was, I did care, much to my dissatisfaction.

"You know," Tavington whispered, continuing to hold me close to him. "You have repeatedly thanked me for saving your life, but in actuality, I merely saved your virtue. You saved your life on your own."

Hearing those words brought a powerful pain to my chest. A pain I had tried so hard to forget about. "To save someone's virtue, they have to have one." I broke away and turned my shameful face from his.

His hands fell to my shoulders, pulling me back against him. "What are you talking about?" He whispered in my ear.

I laughed cynically. "I'm not a virgin, Colonel, and I doubt you would care to hear the despondent details of why that is so."

"And what if I said I would care?"

Shrugging my shoulders to get him to let me go, I turned to face him. "Why would you? I'm a prisoner, part of the enemy. What does it matter what happened to me in the past?"

"Must there always be a reason for what we do?" he asked philosophically.

Smirking and crossing my arms I replied, "Yes, for you there has to be a reason."

He frowned at my response, apparently thinking that I was going to melt and give in, letting him have his way. _Well guess again, Scooter_. "Then why don't we call it . . . curiosity. Hmm?"

I blinked.****

**_Damn, this guy's good._**

_Shut up._

Narrowing my eyes, I couldn't think of an argument to counter his. "Are you really sure you want to get into this?"

Piercing his lips, I took that as I sign for yes. Sighing, I returned to my seat under the tree and motioned for Tavington to join me, which he did. "Ok, you asked for it." Then I began my monologue, staring at nothing but the North Star as I spoke.

"The whole . . . incident occurred when I was sixteen. I had gone to visit my grandparents for the summer and in the course of that visit, we had traveled to a town north of them for pretty much a vacation within a vacation. While we were in town, we had gone to the local theater to see a play.

"Now one thing you must know, my family is very much a theater family. My mother, oldest brother Bryan and I all acted, danced and sang, while my father and other two brothers dealt with the technical aspect of things. Lighting, set changes and the like. So, needless to say, I was pretty excited. I made sure that were in the front row, right in the middle, so we could be drawn into everything.

"When the play began, I had noticed that the male lead was a very hott, I mean very handsome man, only a few years older than me. Two, I later came to find out."

"He was the one to—"

"Yes," I interrupted. "His name was Kevin. I guess in the course of the play, he had noticed me too, and afterwards came up to talk to me. Well I was in absolute heaven. Back home with my parents, I was, well, really kind of a loner. I didn't have many friends and certainly no boyfriends—"

"'Boyfriends?'" Tavington questioned.

Cursing my use of the 21st century word I explained, "Yea, it's a word I use for suitor. Sorry, forgot to clarify that."

"Of course, continue."

"Well anyway, through talking with him I had discovered that he was actually from the same town my grandparents lived in, and was only acting in the play on the weekends for his brother, who owned the little theater.

"So, he started to dat-court me. We would go all these different places, see all these different sites. He treated me like I was princess and I loved it. He had even fooled my grandparents. They would rave about him. It was always 'Kevin this' and 'Kevin that.'" I sighed.

"I didn't mind though. He made me feel special. I thought I loved him." I stopped and took a breath before continuing on. "It was the last week I was with my grandparents that things fell apart. He had been pressuring my from the start to . . . well, you know what I'm talking about. Each time he did I told him no, that I wasn't ready yet. Normally he would let the matter drop. However, that night my grandparent had gone out with some friends and left me home alone. It wasn't that much of a problem; I'd been home alone before.

"Unfortunately that night, Kevin made a surprise visit. Everything was fine until he started pressuring me again. I kept telling him no, that I didn't want to until finally he said if I really loved him, I'd let him do what he wanted." I stopped, frowning as I thought about that night. "So . . . . I did. I wanted to show him how much I loved him. Pretty soon after he left, just got up and left. I was so ashamed I didn't see him for three days. Finally, after gaining enough courage, I went over to his house and found him in a very . . . compromised position with another girl. Horrified I ran out and ran to the nearest park. He found me there and explained that he didn't feel the relationship was going anywhere and he ended it. I was such an idiot to believe that he had actually harbored any feelings for me," I sighed and risked a glance at Tavington. His eyes were burning with repressed rage and his whole body was tense. That was a bit of a surprise.

"What happened after?" he practically growled, but for once, it seemed his anger was not directed at me. That was a bit of a weird feeling.

I shrugged. "Nothing happened. I never told anyone and nothing came of it. I was pretty sure that my brothers would have torn him limb from limb if I told them the truth of why we broke things off. I was protecting them from serious jail time."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"And bring all kinds of shame to my family?" I barked. "No, I couldn't do that. I was the perfect child, their darling, innocent, little girl. How could I tell my family that the guy they all loved had used me?" I shook my head. "Nope, I buried it in my heart and left it there, just becoming another statistic.

"So there you have it; my depressing little story about my stupidity," I muttered, playing with the hem of my skirt. I could no longer look at him, expecting to see disgust in his whole face. I hate when he surprises me by being human. Taking my busy hands, he gained my attention.

"You weren't stupid, naïve maybe, but not stupid. Anyone would have done what you did to show that they cared," his whispered, brushing a few wispy strands that had fallen in my face. "He should suffer for the pain he caused you, not the other way around."

Dropping my eyes I mumbled, "Yes, well, Hakuna Matata. It's all in the past now."

A finger under my chin brought my head up. "Doesn't mean it's any easier."

He leaned in, but I put my hand on his chest stopping him. Frowning, I asked, "Why are you here, Colonel?"

Almost as if snapping from a dream, the kind look that was in his eyes disappeared, and a nervous anger took him over. Quickly he stood up, glaring down at me from his height as if the situation was _my_ fault. Business like again he said, "It has been decided that you are to accompany the Dragoons tomorrow. I need all the men and I trust none of the followers to leave you with. Be prepared to leave early."

With that he turned and stomped back to camp, ignoring the bewildered look on my face. Shaking my head, I turned back and regarded the stars. "I swear he has more mood swings than I do."

* * *

Tavington POV 

So much for staying away from her.

* * *

**Alright, I know the ending of this chapter was extremely Mary-Sueish, but the truth of the matter is that I know several girls that have had this very thing happen to them. It's a reality that many girls my age and even younger are facing, and I think people should really be aware of it, because it isn't easy to go through it alone. So, if you want to harper about it, go ahead, but I purposely put that story in here to raise the importance of this issue. Aiight, stepping off my soap-box now.**

**_And P.S. If anyone knows anything about the political philosophies of the American Revolution, please share in either a review or a message. I'm trying to do my final project for my philosophy class and for some reason it has been giving me trouble, since that is my subject. Please and Thank you!_**


	34. Chapter 34: Breaking Ground

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. Each review means the world to me and I'm trying to reply back to all of you. So thank you.**

**Chapter quote:** "I was suddenly done with all the fighting and the killing. I just wanted the war to be over..."

* * *

**Chapter 33: Breaking Ground**

The next morning, I was roughly shaken awake by O'Hurley who grunted out that the Dragoons were leaving within the hour and I had to get up. Grumbling, I did just that, my brain not understanding _why_ I had to go with them. _Tavington probably wants to show some kind of superiority or something_, I thought with a sigh.

I was ready to leave within twenty minutes, a feat I was very much proud of. I was even ready before most of the men, which gave an added insurance that Tavington wouldn't yell at me for holding them up.

At around nine o'clock according to my watch, we set out. Tavington rode at the front of the brigade, his hand arrogantly poised on his hip while he sat ramrod straight in the saddle. I was forced to ride between Captain Wilkins and Captain Bordon, directly behind the Colonel. I was in no way complaining about the view.

During the ride I had remained mostly quiet, only answering questions that were directed at me. The two captains talked to each other, mostly about the war. I had voiced several questions at the beginning of the ride, asking what was going to happen and why I was forced to come, but the men were obnoxiously indirect in answering me. Stupid soldiers.

However, my questions were soon answered when we stopped at the base of a large green hill, one lone tree residing over the crest like a watch keeper. The men had taken a reprieve from riding; they were cooking lunch and waiting around for when the orders came to charge. Suddenly, I knew_ exactly _what was going to happen.

Dismounting in anger, I stomped my way over to the colonel, who was standing off ways a bit, looking through his spyglass for the supply train to come around the corner.

"And you brought me on this little excursion, why? So I could watch you butcher –no pun intended— apart the militia?" I spat, stepping in front of the telescope. Lowering it from his eye, Tavington sent me an irritated look.

"I don't believe I need to explain my reasons for doing something, least of all to you."

"That's not what you said last night," I mumbled, crossing my arms.

"What was that?!"

Giving Tavington an innocent stare, I replied, "Oh, nothing."

"Yes, I believe _that_," he remarked sarcastically, placing the eye back in its former position. Frowning, I went up to my tiptoes so he had no choice to look at me, whether with the eye piece, or without it.

"So why am I here? I don't think I can be much help in attacking the Ghost's militia."

Lowering again he gave me a frustrated, patience-wearing look. "Why are you so determined that is the reason why we're here?"

"Why else would we be? I'm pretty sure you aren't going to go find them then sit down and have tea crumpets, discussing the weather. So why did you bring me?" I asked again, placing my hands on my hips.

"I had already explained it to you last night," he spat, clearly annoyed. "There is no one in camp I trust to guard you so you won't try another ill-conceived escape attempt."

"You know I won't run away, I promised I wouldn't. Besides, my last attempt ended rather poorly; why would I try again?"

"Because you're a stubborn wench who listens to no one but yourself."

Shrugging I smiled, "Take me or leave me, that's how I am."

"Well I was going to take no chances. End of discussion." He brushed past me to gain a better angle at which to observe the M.I.A. supply train.

"Hell no it's not the end—"

Spinning back around he snapped, "Yes, it is! Don't argue with me, Stephanie."

I think the only reason that I did stop arguing was the fact that he said my given name. He seemed to have surprised himself, too, but it didn't last. Scowling at me, his vision caught something and he was quickly ordering the men to mount up. Turning around, I saw that the supply train had come into view, two wagons and several men strung between. With a squeak, I followed suit, practically flying into the saddle.

"Now, we will follow the caravan until the Ghost makes his attack, and then we take him by surprise," Tavington yelled at his men from atop his own horse. Most of the men nodded and moved into formation under Tavington's careful scrutiny. His eyes then roamed over to me, a deep scowl etching unto his face. "Miss Hawkins, come here please," he called over to me. Matching his scowl with my own, I softly kicked Lainathiel's sides and plodded over.

"You called?" I asked impatiently.

"If we engage in battle today," he gorwled with a scowl. "You are in no way to join. You are ordered to stay with Lieutenant O'Hurley at a safe distance and there is where you will wait for me."

"And if I dare to join in, Colonel?" I asked cooly.

His glare meant nothing. "Then I will order my men to shoot you," he responded without missing a beat.

I opened my mouth, thought for a moment and then closed it when I realized I couldn't argue that fact. "Point taken," I mumbled.

"Good, then we are to have no misgivings?"

Sighing in reluctant acceptance, I said, "No, Sir."

Tavington seemed a bit disconcerted by my lack of argument, but pleased all the same. "Very well, stick close to me until the time comes to charge."

"Yes, Your Majesty," I grumbled inaudibly. Tavington raised an eyebrow at my _supposed_ lack of response, and then kicked his horse up the hill to observe the supply line. Clicking my tongue, Lainathiel followed suit, keeping a relative distance back from the Colonel. We reached the top just in time to see the train come to an abrupt stop. Although I couldn't hear what the men were saying, I caught sight of Ben, my heart clenching, and I knew he was ordering the British to surrender the wagons.

Tavington brought his eyepiece back to his eye and muttered, "I'll be damned. He's here."

Clenching the leather reins so tightly my knuckles turned white, I observed the sight with growing apprehension. "Get out of there," I whispered, my eyes staring unwavering at the man in the dark blue jacket.

Tavington sent a glare at me before he motioned the men to ride up. A loud whistle reached our ears and more militiamen materialized from the brush. With one last look at the increasing tension, Tavington closed the telescope, tucking it into a pocket on the saddle.

"Let's see how good of a fighter your Ghost commander is, shall we?" He remarked before giving the order to charge as the men crested the hill.

"No!" I shouted after the men, but they were already barreling down the hill toward the high, tan grasses and Ben. The militia fired one volley, hitting several of the caravan's men, before turning tail and retreating back to their horses, having spied the dragoons riding down the hill.

The British returned fire, successfully hitting several of the militia men. I winced at the impacts, feeling them as if they were my own. The Dragoons continued their charge, gaining speed as they reached the trough of the hill while smoke rose from the already fired muskets. Pulling the reins to the left, I maneuver Lainathiel over more, giving me an even better view of the unfolding battle. Some militia men had taken a stand, sending several volleys at the Redcoats and allowing many of the other men to mount up and retreat down the road.

Once the dragons made it to the base of the hill, and entered the tall grasses that lined the road, they, too, open fired on the militia, hitting several more men as the infantry men added their own bullets to the mêlée.

With the retreat of the militia, the infantry men stood up and gave chase, practically herding the men down the road. More shots were fired from both sides: several Redcoats, Dragoons, and Militiamen falling down. It was a mad frenzy for the militia to get to horse and ride away; chaos was reigning as the men in desperation sought freedom.

As soon as I knew the direction the men were riding from, I kicked Lainathiel into a gallop down the hill, ignoring the curses and calls from O'Hurley to come back. The Dragoons were pulling away steadily, firing shot after painful shot. Once I reached the bottom, I held Lainathiel back, afraid that I would get to far involved, and I knew Tavington would hold to his threat.

Running onto the road, I watched as the first Militia men to leave were confronted by a surprise attack from the grasses, the British pulling a leaf out of our book and using guerrilla warfare to stop the retreat. Several fell to the bullets, while others reined their horses to a stop, raising their guns in surrender.

Ben and his group came to a stop on the bridge between the two areas of fighting. I could see his and Gabriel's heads in-between the dragoon helmets, each looking for a way out. Kicking his horse into motion, Ben sent them down the embankment and into the stream, riding away by the cover of the bushes and Spanish moss.

They had barely made it off the bridge before the Dragoons came sailing by behind them. Surprisingly the Calvary kept going, whether ignoring Ben and the other men, or having had not a clue that they had made a detour I never knew. The only one to stop, unsurprisingly, was Tavington. He pointed his pistol and shot, the resound splash of something hitting water was testimony that he hadn't missed.

Realizing that the danger had passed, I kicked Lainathiel forward. At the sounds of her hooves, Tavington turned and regarded me, first shocked and then angry.

"Miss Hawkins! I ordered you—"

"You're not going to kill them, right?" I interrupted breathlessly, stopping right besides him. My eyes were wide with worry.

"What are you talking about?" he asked crisply. I pointed forward where the militia were being organized into groups.

"Them, you're not going to kill them, are you?" He looked in the direction I was pointing, piercing his lips in annoyance. "Please don't kill them. I'll do anything, just don't—"

"As much as I'm enjoying your prattling," Tavington snapped, turning his frozen eyes to me. "I'm not going to kill them."

I sighed in relief. Although in the movie, I knew that they were to be taken to Fort Carolina, I didn't know if my sudden presence had altered plans any. I was suddenly done with all the fighting and the killing. I just wanted the war to be over, to be in peace and no longer a prisoner. "Thank you," I whispered.

"I said _I_ wasn't going to kill them, Cornwallis may have different plans however." Gulping I looked at the men, seeing John Billings, David, the Reverend and many of the other men I had fought besides.

"Shit."

* * *

"Do you not understand the seriousness of your actions?!" Tavington raged at me once we had made it to the seclusion of his tent. He, about half of the Dragoons, and I had rode with breakneck speed back to camp after making sure that the now P.O.W.s would be escorted back to Fort Carolina to await sentencing. 

"Pray, tell me what they are," I answered back coolly, rolling my eyes as I stood still as a statue in front of him. It was surprising that much, if not all the anger I ever had bottled up inside me was suddenly gone. I felt weird, drained almost.

Scowling Tavington replied, breaking me from my thoughts. "You defied a direct order; you engaged in battle without—"

"I did not _engage_ in anything," I interrupted.

"That is besides the point, Miss Hawkins," he scowled, calming down a little. "You still disobeyed me."

"Nothing even happened," I tired to reason. "I was merely trying to stop . . ." I faltered the last sentence, realizing my mouth was working faster than my brain. I dropped my eyes in embarrassment, catching my lip between my teeth.

"Trying to stop what?" he asked, stepping closer to me.

With a determined sigh I raised my eyes and stared at him head on. "Trying to stop you from killing them."

Actual surprise flickered in his eyes. "And why do you think that I would?"

_Oh, I don't know. Because you've done it in the past? _Glancing downward again I whispered, "Because you're the Butcher. I think the name speaks for itself here." I angled my head away, not wanting him to see the anguish that name caused me as I wrapped my arms around myself.

"Is that all you think of me as?" he asked quietly, a bitterness coating his tone.

Shrugging I mumbled, "I did . . . once." Bringing my amber eyes back to his ice ones was not an easy thing.

"And now?" he inquired, moving closer towards me. If I didn't know any better, I'd say there was a hopefulness to his tone.

I shrugged. "A part of me still does. I've seen what you've done and I know what you can do," I sighed. "But I've also seen the other side of you; the actual human side. I guess I just don't understand how you can be so cruel one moment and then kind the next. I mean what have we ever done to you? Well, I guess not we as in me personally; you can name examples—"

"We who?" He interrupted, although not unkindly.

"The colonists," I breathed, running a hand through my hair, pulling the wispy strands back from my face. "What do you have against us? Why do you want to so wholly destroy us?"

He exhaled a deep breath, seemingly at a lost on how to answer the questions that I have dreamed of asking for months. "I'm not bent on destroying the colonists," he said after a time. "Only the traitors that stand against the Crown."

"Men who fight against you I understand, but women and children, Colonel? Innocents?" My voice was hoarse, my throat trying to close up tightly.

"They can betray their home country just as easily as any man," Tavington reasoned, folding his arms over his chest.

"They aren't betraying their country. They're fighting for it."

"So you say," he countered, annoyance dripping from his mouth.

"Yes, so I say." It was my turn to step forward, emphasizing my point. "Colonel, they fight for more than you could possibly understand."

"And what wouldn't I understand?" His eyes hardened as his arms dropped.

I leveled my gaze with his. "Freedom. They fight, and they die, so that those they love will be free. So that their children and grandchildren will grow up, able to choose what religion they wish to follow; able to be educated and a chance to live whatever dream they want. It's a new beginning and an opportunity to wipe the slate clean and start again. To break away from the trials and tribulations that comes with a ruler half a world away. Would that not be reasons to fight?"

For once he didn't have counterargument; in fact I seemed to have made the Colonel speechless. An emotion, one that looked like regret rippled across his face, but was gone in an instant. "That's a pretty little speech, Miss Hawkins, but I'm afraid the nation for which you so passionately speak of does not exist and will not exist," he finally countered.

I laughed in disbelief. "How wrong you are. The United States of America will flourish and become one of the greatest nations this world has ever seen; no matter how much you try to stop it. The passion for freedom can never be destroyed. Everyone will pay whatever price for it, no matter what it is."

He smiled, clearly amused but in no way convinced. "Believe whatever you will, Miss Hawkins," he explained, turning away to remove his sword belt and pistol. "But I'm afraid facts and reason, not passion, will decide what will happen."

I shrugged, smiling knowingly. "Maybe, maybe not. I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

He nodded in agreement. "That we will. You are dismissed."

He turned his back to me, but I was not going to be leaving that easily. "What will happen to the men?" I voiced.

He spun back around, lifting a dark brow in surprise. "Pardon me?"

"The militia men captured today," I elaborated. "What will happen to them?"

Sighing he turned back to fully face me. "They will be given three days in which they may confess either their crimes, or to provide any information leading to the capture of the Ghost. After those three days, if none have stepped forward, they will each be hung, one at a time, until the information is finally rendered. Does that sate your curiosity?"

Throwing my hand up in the air in frustration, I placed my hands on my hips and shook my head at Tavington. "There you go, being all cold and distant again."

"And why does me being 'cold and distant' mean anything to you?" he questioned with a raised brow.

Shrugging, I said, "I plead the 5th."

"Plead the what?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"Oh, yea, right, that's hasn't been established yet," I muttered. With my mind working furiously I turned my eyes away from Tavington as my hand came to rest by my chin. "Well not yet; it will be, but then does that mean I can pleaded it, if I know it _will _be established? It just _hasn't _yet. Wait, that doesn't make any sense—"

"Is there anyway to stop your insistent prattling?" Tavington barked with a scowl.

Smirking, I focusing my attention back on him. "Not really. When my mind goes off on a tangent, it is exceptionally hard to rein it back in."

"Indeed?" he questioned. He stood there looking at me for a minute before a gleam came into his eye and he started moving closer to me. I saw that gleam and gulped, taking a few steps back. "Are you positive there in no remedy?" he asked, a sudective curve to his lips.

"P-pretty sure, yeah," I acquiesced taking larger steps to get away as I felt my heart begin to pick up it's rhythm. He continued his frontal advance with a steady confidence.

"I think I may know a way," he voiced after my back made contact with a post, sufficiently ending my backwards retreat. He stalked ever closer, the glint in his eyes not diminishing in the least. In fact it seemed to sparkle in a hypnotizing way and I found I didn't want to run anymore. In fact I didn't want to be anywhere than were I was at that moment. Weird huh?

"And that way would be?" I whispered as he came to be right in front of me, angling my head up to properly look him in the face.

He smiled, a true genuin smile that melted into me. "Are you sure you want to know what it is?" he asked.

It was a challenge and I sure as hell wasn't going to back out. "Pray, induldge me," I remarked slyly, feeling my cheeks heat under so intense of a gaze.

The gleam in his eyes became like fire. "If that is what you wish," he whispered before he leaned down to plant his lips on mine, sufficently ending anykind of retort I may have been able to come up with. Unlike the last time, this kiss, although mind-blowing, was softer, gentler; neither of us was buying for possession over the other.

My arms soon found their way around his neck while his wrapped around my lower back as one cradled my neck. Since I was shorter than the Colonel, my neck was practically bent backwards so I might gain the most pleasurable angle to taste him. Our lips worked together for several minutes before the desire of oxygen overruled the desire to kiss him.

Breaking apart, both of us were breathing heavily, staring at each other with half laden eyes full of desire. Like last time, I expected the Colonel to notice the error of his ways and jump back away from me, leaving me feeling alone and bereft again. Instead he pulled me closer.

"I guess I was right," he whispered.

"About what?" I cocked my head in confusion.

"My method seemed to have shut you up." With a laugh I went to hit him, but he caught my wrist, planting a kiss on the inside skin. "Although you still won't seem to back down and accept it."

"Well I do believe I'm a 'stubborn wench who listens to no one but myself'," I remarked, smiling.

Kissing my lips with a small peck, he smiled, "Yes, you are, but I wouldn't have you any other way." Bending down he caught my lower lips with his teeth, then delved in for another round. _Damn it! Now I'm butter. Oh, this won't end good._

_**Shut up and enjoy it!**_

Another love bite.

_Okay!_

* * *

**Maybe a little cheesy, but I think it's high time there was a little love mixed in with all the hate, don't you agree?**


	35. Chapter 35: Curse of the Insane

**Chapter quote: **'what's living unless you pull your pants down and slide on the ice?'

* * *

**Chapter 34: Curse of the Clinically Insane**

I probably should have been asking myself what the hell I was thinking as I walked away from Colonel Tavington's tent, my lips still tingling in remembrance of his kisses. I probably should have been kicking myself, and then vowing to not come within ten feet of the man. So why was I glowing with happiness and smiling like a fool? Because I'm insane. That's the only explanation there is. I have officially lost my mind; dove off the deep end; had too many screws come loose. But am I upset? Hell no! I just had one of the _best_ makeout sessions of my life and in no way, shape, or form am I going to complain.

My god, I even felt like skipping. SKIPPING?! Who skips anymore? I mean really, besides little four and five year old girls, me, at twenty-two, should learn to curb those feelings. Too bad skipping was so much fun.

Reaching my tent, I flung myself onto my cot with a content sigh, my smile of pure joy not even leaving my face. So this is what it's like when things go right. It had been such a long time since things went right for me. Ever since the Kevin incident, I had felt like my world was falling apart, like I was trying to hold sand in my hand. Nothing I did seemed to stop the grains from falling through my fingers.

Ok, so there was the fact that I graduated high school with a 4.0. Diving into schoolwork seemed to be one of the only outlets for my anger, which grew exponentially since Kevin.

My parents had been so proud when I did graduate; even though the week before school let out I almost got into a fight with this dumb jock who made some callous comment about girls only being in existence for his pleasure. Since one of the few friends I had was a feminist, I figured should have at least said something. Yea, that almost earned me another suspension.

Now, however, I felt like I had finally taken some ground back. That all the fighting I had done was at long last yielding results. I'm pretty sure I was still going to be a smartass, there are just some things that can't be changed in a person, but that overwhelming fire demon of rage seemed to have extinguished itself in the ice-colored eyes of the most unexpected person. It's ironic that a man known for his temper would quench mine.

Even the death of Thomas I could no longer blame Tavington for. I had known it was going to happen; it was difficult not to since I watched _The Patriot_ religiously back home. (Of course, that's when I had a thing for Heath Ledger. That got squished after Kevin, who looked remarkably like him.)

Nevertheless, Tavington had caught my eye, and no matter what I did, I knew I couldn't change him. He's a wild animal. It's like asking a leopard to change its spots or a wolf to ceases its howling. No matter what happens, no matter how much the animal is removed from its environment, it's going to do whatever comes instinctively. Nothing can stop it and nothing can change it. I just have to accept it.

_So now what do I do? _I thought, closing my eyes._ As much as I miss Ben and Gabriel, I don't want to go back._ My eyes snapped open in shock. It was true. I didn't want to go back. As much as I loved the both of them, something was missing when I was there, something I just couldn't place my finger on. I wasn't sure if I had found it in the Dragoon camp, but I knew I was a lot closer than before.

My belly warmed as my mind inadvertently flashed back to my time in the tent. It felt so . . . right, being held against the Colonel. It was comfortable; I fit to him like a glove does for a hand. My height, for which I always thought I was too short, seemed to be just right. My slender, lithe, dancer's form was in perfect contrast to his muscular, slightly stocky stature.

The only question left is does he see me in the same way? Sure, he was the one to instigate the mack-out sessions, but that doesn't mean that he felt anything for me. Most of the time he can't seem to even stand my presence, let alone harbor any kind of romantic feelings for me.

_**Then we'll have to change that, won't we?**_

_How?_

_**By showing him that you can follow orders and be a perfect, demure, colonial lady.**_

_. . . . This is me we're talking about here. And I'm not changing myself for anyone._

_**Then you come up with something!**_

* * *

The following day dawned bright and clear, a warm wind blowing from the south heated the camp to an almost uncomfortable temperature. Disturbed by the heat, I sought relief by the river, hoping the cool, running liquid and the shelter under the large River Birch trees would be far more comfortable than the stuffy tent. I sighed in contentment, enjoying the beautiful day, one of the first really good days in a long while. 

Lying back on the cool grass, propped up on my elbows, I stuck my bare feet into the cool waters while I shed my long, cotton shirt for a more comfortable tank top. Leaning further back, I sat there brooding. Three days, that's all I had. Three days to enjoy the relative freedom and peace in the camp before Tavington went to Fort Carolina and discovered who the Ghost was. After that, who knows what's going to happen.

Catching my lower lip between my teeth, I worried about Ben, but more about me. Tavington will figure out my relation to the Ghost; he's a smart man, there is no way he couldn't. But his reaction to said discovery is in no way predictable. I feared that whatever bridge we had built between the two of us would go up in a fantastic explosion of emotions. _I must seriously be insane to harbor any kind of infatuation for the man,_ I thought.

A shimmering rock caught my attention when a puffy, white cloud moved from in front of the sun. With my face distorted in confusion, I reached into the clear water and extracted the hard stone from its home on the floor. Examining it, I flicked my wrist and sent it flying across the river, skipping the water three times before sinking to the bottom.

Grinning evilly, I had decidedly found a new form of amusement and hurried to search for another rock. This time, it was a little flatter than the other one and I repeated the process. Four skips this time. Smiling like I hadn't in months, I went on a hunt, finding similar shaped stones and then sending them across the river, trying to make them skip all the way across to the other side. Sadly, I couldn't manage more than five, which had actually been a fluke I couldn't reciprocate.

After I had sent another rock across the rippling waves, I heard the gruff dismissal of O'Hurley and then the rustle of leaves as Tavington fought his way through the brush.

Tossing another rock in the air, I caught it and sent across the water as he finally entered the little clearing looking slightly disgruntled.

"How on earth do you make it through that ticket all the time?" he remarked, brushing the leaves and sticks that had gotten caught on his jacket.

"Well, for one, I'm a lot smaller than you," I answered, keeping my back to him. Then, looking back over my shoulder I smiled. "And two, the bushes just like me better."

He sent me disbelieving stare and then noticed the humor that laced through the brown depth of my eyes. Snorting he joked, "I highly doubt that."

Acting mortified, I gasped in mocked outrage, "What? Is it so hard to believe that something actually likes me?" Although I was joking, it didn't seem to register with him. He stared at me curiously, almost regretfully.

"I never said that nothing likes you."

I stared at him bewilderedly and then, for a lack of a better thing to do, laughed. "Don't even worry about it," I stated, picking up another one of the rocks I had found and sent it across the water again.

"Why are you doing that?" he asked, bewilderment lacing his tone. "That is such a childish activity."

I smirked, even though I knew he couldn't see me. "As I've heard before, 'what's living unless you pull your pants down and slide on the ice?'" I sent a smiled over my shoulder at him, laughing at the reaction on his face.

"Who says something like that?!" he barked, making me laugh for real, practically holding my stomach in my mirth.

"Well, besides me?" I mocked, barely controlling my giggles. My God, it felt so good to laugh again. "Louis Stevens."

"Who's that?"

"He's a boy. An odd boy, but a boy nonetheless," I smiled. Selecting another rock from my steadily shrinking stash, I sat cross-legged on the ground and sent it flying. _Four skips, not bad. _"Why don't you join me," I shouted back over my shoulder as I placed my bare feet in the water. Silence greeted me. "C'mon, you know you want to."

"Miss Hawkins, what are you wearing?"

_What?!_ Snapping my head back around, I gave Tavington a very bemused glance noticing that he was staring at my uncovered shoulders. "A tank top?"

His eyes flicked back to mine, desire so potent it nearly stole my breath. Heat built in my cheeks and I turned back around, now just throwing rocks apposed to skipping them. Stomping feet and the crunching of grass reached my ears as Tavington came up besides me, bending over to grab a rock.

"Throw it or skip it?"

"Huh?" I tilted my head up to glance at his six foot frame.

"Do you want me to throw it or do you want me to skip it?" he asked, glancing downwards.

Throwing my own rock I grinned, a plan forming in my head. "Why don't we bet on it?" I inquired, my mischievous side kicking in.

He raised a brow, interested. "Oh, and what are the stakes?"

I sat and thought. "Ok, if I win, I get to be without an escort for one week. No exceptions; I just want a bit of freedom."

"And if I win?"

"I'll—"

"Do whatever I ask without any complaints for one week?"

_**Oooo, tricky.**_

_Yea, but should I go with it?_

_**You offered the bet.**_

_I know but . . . damn conscience._

"Deal," I sighed. "You go first, or me?"

Gesturing with his arm he said, "Ladies first."

_**Haha, good thing Tommy taught you how to throw. You will easily win this.**_

_I know, that's why I offered a bet._

Smiling coyly, I picked up a medium size rock, just slightly smaller than my fists. Cranking my arm back I let the grey slate go sailing through the air, across the river, landing a few feet from the opposite bank in a large splash. Grinning widely, I turned my attention to Tavington who looked on slightly impressed.

"Your turn."

He nodded, "Impressive."

Tossing his rock a couple times up in the air, he caught it and then, mimicking me, threw the stone as hard as he could. Dropping my mouth open in shock, I scrambled into a standing position, watching as the rock landed neatly on the other side of the river, bouncing away from the bank.

"And . . . I think I just got owned," I mumbled, completely and utterly shocked that Tavington could throw that far.

"Owned?"

Without taking my eyes off of the area on the opposite bank that now held Tavington's rock, I answered, "Yea. Pretty much means you kicked my ass . . . by a lot."

I could totally feel the smirk that was forming on Tavignton's face. "And our bet?"

Sighing, I realized the seriousness of what I had pledged to. Turning around to face him, I mumbled, "I am your humble slave for the next week, Oh Great One." I bowed mockingly.

"Don't sound too happy," he said sarcastically, crossing his arms in front of him.

"Ok, I'll try not to," I smiled. His only reaction was a corner of his mouth moving up in a quirked grin, followed by a heavy set of rolled eyes.

"You are, without a doubt, the strangest girl I have ever come across," he muttered.

Chuckling, I resumed my position of sitting on the ground. Digging into my bag I extracted two apples that I had filched from the kitchen ladies, with Caroline's help of course. "Here, have one," I shot over my shoulder before I tossed the red fruit to the Colonel. Reflectively he caught it. "So, how am I strange?"

Tavington studied the apple for a few moments, as if debating as if it was poisoned or not. Deeming it wasn't, he took a bite and then sat down next to me on the soft grass. "Was that rhetorical, or not?" he asked.

"No, I'm being serious. Why do you think I'm so strange?" I took a bite out of my apple, giving Tavington my full attention.

"Well, you don't act like many, if not _any_ of the girls in the Colonies or in England."

Quirking an eyebrow, I swallowed the delicious, sweet fruit and then said, "Is that a bad thing? I mean I could be like them." Sitting up until my spin was pin straight, I gave Tavington a haughty look and spoke in a commanding British tone, "Do you want to know the difference between us? I have class and you don't." Dropping the accent, and relaxing my back, I gave him an incredulous smile. "I mean, really, do you want me to be like that?"

He laughed, a full fledged laugh. My breath caught in my throat as his smile transformed his face into someone so handsome, it was almost unlawful to gaze upon him.

"I dear say, I have never heard a rendition of the women of the _ton_ done like that before," he said, taking another bite of the apple.

Smiling, I commented, "Really? I'm surprised. I heard they're all like that. A bunch of overgrown, stiffly poppycocks."

He laughed again. "They do tend to have that persona."

His look then became calculating, the longer he stared into my eyes, as if he was trying to read into my very heart. Clearing my throat, my smile disappeared and I looked away, my cheeks reddening almost painfully. I took a bite of my apple and sat there munching away as I heard Tavington shift and then he was right next to me.

"Miss Hawkins—"

"I think," I interrupted, turning my head to him. "That after everything that's occurred, you can use my given name, even if it is in seclusion."

He closed his mouth, a thin firm line that looked almost harsh, before opening it again and saying, "I see your reasoning. Fine, if that is what you wish."

"It is."

What looked to me as if Colonel Tavington was picking up the nerve, he said, "Stephanie, the truth of the matter is, you are just as bloody confusing as I am."

Utterly confused myself, I questioned, "What are you talking about?"

He glanced away with a frustrated sigh. "You had spoken that I was confusing to you, and yet you are just as confusing to me. Most of the time you are completely insufferable, stubborn, and hotheaded; caring for no one's will but your own." I narrowed my eyes irately. "But then," he mumbled, the dark oceanic waters of his irises focused on me. "Such as today, you seem so carefree and compassionate. You aren't fighting to keep that wall up that doesn't allow anyone in—"

"I let people in!"

"Can I finish please?" he snapped, but there wasn't the usual sharpness behind his tone. I huffed, and crossed my army sulkily, but nodded. He took a deep breath, glancing away to gain either his bearings or his nerves, I didn't know which. Resolutely, he brought his eyes back to mine, confusion evident in the haunting depths of ice. "I don't understand you."

I cocked my head to the side. "What's there to understand?" I snapped. "I'm just an ordinary woman trying to fit into a world that wasn't designed for me."

"How can a world not be designed for a person?" he questioned, thoroughly bewildered.

I sighed, "Look at it this way, some people may very well be born in the wrong century."

He scoffed at the notion. "Impossible," he announced.

I rolled my eyes discreetly; wondering what would happen if he knew the real story of my life. "Oh, trust me, it's possible."

We sat in silence for a few moments, each lost in our own thoughts. I stared at my apple, a light frown on my lips. Why on earth was Tavington here? What could he possibly want? His very presence, both massive and over powering was causing me to lose almost all conscious thought, and he wasn't even kissing me. I wanted him to though. I couldn't argue with myself any more. I really wanted him to kiss me, to be in his arms and have him hold me; to care for me, as I do for him. Why must life be so full of insanity?

"Colonel?" I voiced hesitantly after a time.

"Hmm?" He focused his attention once more on me.

I took a breath. "Why are you being so . . .well . . . nice to me?" I asked. "I mean, we didn't exactly start off on the right foot." I frowned, "or any foot actually. Bloody hell, our first meeting sucked."

He smiled, shaking his head a little. "You're right. Our first meeting wasn't very cordial," he spoke, taking my right hand that had been supporting me and bringing it to his lips. "But time seems to make a world of difference."

Biting my lip I smiled, feeling slightly flustered by the spark in his eye. "That, or insanity."

He laughed, wrapping his large hand over my smaller one. "Or insanity, but I think only you and I will ever admit to that fact."

"Oh no doubt." Noticing the time, I withdrew my hand and said, "you should probably be getting back, the men will no doubt wonder where your overbearing stature went to."

His eyes sparkled with amusement. "You're probably right. I cannot have them thinking I deserted them. They need some new drills to occupy themselves," he remarked, standing up and throwing the apple core into the river.

"Have fun with that," I laughed.

He winked at me and then dived into the brush, subsequently leaving me alone with my thoughts. Smiling, I picked the last rock and sent it flying across the river, skipping the whole way until it reached the other side. My smile grew and I laid back, realizing that I had had an actual polite conversation with Colonel Tavington. _I may be insane, but I think Colonel Tavington isn't that far behind._

* * *

**Yay! A bit of harmless fluff. I think this story needed it. I never noticed how serious I had made it until I went back and read it myself. Hopefully this adds a bit of relaxation, for things are about to change in the near future. **

**Also, and please don't hate me, I won't be updating next week for several reasons. My graduation from high school is this week, I have family coming in from literally all over the US, I have a billion graduation things to do, and I haven't written in over three weeks due to massive projects at school so I'm a bit behind in my chapters. I promise that the Sat. after next you _will_ be getting a post, but I'm just swamped right now. Thank you in advance for your patience. And please review.**


	36. Chapter 36: Learning

**Chapter quote:** ". . .I'm afraid her father was . . . well . . . hacked to bits, as the soldiers say."

* * *

**Chapter 35: Learning**

As the air began to cool, and the day began to fade into night, I headed back to camp. For the first time since my imprisonment, I felt content. I didn't feel as if I was completely alone, but that I actually had someone to lean on. Strangely enough, that someone was Colonel Tavington. Now that I had seen the softer side; the side that showed him to be merely a young man, I knew that there was the ability in him to care. No longer was he a block of impenetrable stone, but a living human being, and that gave me reason to hope.

Lost in the recess in my mind, it was no surprise that suddenly I found myself back with in the camp limits. Shaking my head to relive myself of my wayward and slightly delirious thoughts, I noticed Caroline slaving away inside one of the tents, her dark hair clinging to her forehead in damp strands. Curious, I headed over in that direction, never noticing that Tavington had seen me return and was watching me intently as I hurried away.

"Hey Caroline," I said, entering the stifling hot tent. She glanced up from her work station, having been intently cutting up vegetables for the evening meal. She gave me a tired smile, brushing her wrist along her forehead.

"Oh, hello, Stephanie," she replied. "I'm afraid I can't talk right now. I'm trying to get all these vegetables cut up before Amelia comes sweeping down like a plague again." She went back to savagely hacking up the vegetables, apparently irritated about something.

Wordlessly I grabbed my own knife, snatching up a carrot and started cutting it into bite size pieces next to her.

"What are you doing?" she asked, stopping for a moment.

"I'm helping you," I answered, glancing up to smile at her before I turned back to my task.

"Oh. You don't have to do that."

"Yea, but what are friends for? Besides, I'm bored and I need something to do."

She smiled. "Thank you."

I nodded and we continued with our work for a few more moments, many of the other women working in the tent gave me a strange, and something of a hatful look, but allowed me to help with the meal. They were no doubt appreciative at having the extra hand.

"And what do you think you're doing?!" a familiar voice screamed. Snapping my head up, and slicing my finger slightly from being startled, I caught the angry blue eyes of Annabelle's mother.

Sticking my newly damaged finger in my mouth, I replied, "Well, I was cutting up vegetables for dinner, but now I think I'm the new medic case." I pulled my finger back out where blood began to pool again on the tip. It was a shallow cut, one that I've made millions of times before.

She scoffed, snatching my hand and sending a disgusted look at the blood. "You'll be fine," she snapped, throwing my hand back at me. Placing her hands on her petite hips, she glared at me with such ferocity that she could have given Tavington a run for his money. If she wasn't scowling, I would have thought she was pretty, but a persistent bad mood seemed to have given the young mother more wrinkles than she was due. "Now what are you doing?"—_I think she hates me._ _**Ya think?!—**_"You with your rebel disease do not belong here," she growled.

I raised one eyebrow, noticing many of the other women had stopped whatever they were doing, and some pausing in mid-step to watch the exchange between the two of us. Only Caroline appeared to continue working, her head bent low as she tried to ignore the growing tension.

Smiling sweetly, I replied, "Funny, I don't recall ever saying that I _wanted_ to be here. Besides, my _rebel disease_ seems to have been pretty successful over the last couple months, wouldn't you say?"

Her already flustered cheeks heightened in color, a feat I was slightly impressed with. "How dare you!" she screeched beginning to sound more like a banshee than a human being. "How dare you come in here and pretend that you have the right to saunter about! How dare you attack my daughter and then run away making the men chase after someone who doesn't even deserve to be on this earth—"

"Eeerrrrt!!!" I screeched, making the sound of a car hitting the breaks and holding my hand up to stop her little tantrum. She was startled enough to stop and I went ahead. "Aiight, back the train up." I stared her down, my brown eyes hardening. "Well first off, I don't saunter about. It's called walking, maybe you've heard of it? Second, I didn't attack your daughter. She was lost and I was _going_ to try and find you for her. Thirdly, yea I ran away, and in case you don't know I faced one hell of a time in those woods, so don't you _dare_ get all up in my face, and tell me I don't even deserve to be on this earth. You don't even know half the things I've been through, and to insinuate such shows us all how ignorant and supercilious you really are." _Oooh, I forgot how good it felt to let out my pent up emotions._

She opened her mouth and then shut it quickly, angry tears coming to her eyes. "At least I'm not the Colonel's whore," she gritted out through clenched teeth.

You know, I never actually thought that really . . . anything could make me speechless. Well apparently I was wrong. I couldn't even come up with any kind of retort for her last little shot at the knees, and boy had she keelhauled me. I just had my mouth opened like a cod fish, sucking air into my lungs as I stared disbelievingly at the woman. One loud gasp around the tent informed me that her comeback had the same effect on the resident populace as it did with me.

Regaining my voice, I stepped forward and practically growled, "Oh _hell no_, you did _not_ just say that."

I was just about to go all Jerry Springer on the woman's ass when a shout of, "Ladies, that's enough!" sounded in the tent.

Both the woman and I jumped in surprise, so focused were we on shooting each other down with our eyes. Snapping my head around, I saw a plump woman with flaming-red hair and a dirty, white apron, shove her way through the gathering crowd.

The woman's blue eyes widened in surprise. "Mrs. Cunningham!" she exclaimed.

The older woman shoved her way in-between us, her eyes like green fire shooting glares at both of us. With her hands on her hip, Mrs. Cunningham focused her attention on the other woman. "Amelia Bowne! You should be ashamed of yourself! I expected so much better of you, seeing as who your father was. He would not have approved of this kind of behavior, now I want you to leave and go help the laundry maids." Amelia opened her mouth to argue, but Mrs. Cunningham cut her off. "No! I don't want to hear it. Now shoo, before I assign you to the Nursing tent!"

That seemed to have done the trick, for Amelia spun on her heel and stomped out, but not before she sent a glare at me over her shoulder. "Back to work everyone," Cunningham shouted. Immediately work resumed, as if someone had hit the 'play' button.

Smiling, I turned to start working again, when Mrs. Cunningham's voice brought me back. "Hold it right there, Young Lady."

I paused in mid-step and slowly turned back to her. Her tone of voice reminded me of when my mother was angry at me, and I knew I was in trouble. "Yes, Ma'am?" I asked hesitantly. I bit my lip and felt myself shrinking under her accosting stare.

Giving me a slightly toned down version of her first glare, she said, "Miss Hawkins, I understand your desire to be in this camp isn't exactly high, but I cannot have you starting fights with my cooking managers. Now, I do appreciate the extra help, but if you start another confrontation, I'm afraid I will have you banned from coming in here. Is that understood?"

I nodded, the feeling of being scolded not sitting very well. "Yes, Ma'am, but in my defense, I didn't start it. It was Amelia. Apparently she has some kind of vendetta against me," I shrugged.

Mrs. Cunningham sighed, rubbing the back of her hand under her red hair. "Aye, she does." Jerking her head toward her work station, Mrs. Cunningham directed me over. Curious, I followed. "Now, as surprising at it may seem, I am not one for gossip," she began, kneading the bread that would sit overnight so it would rise properly. "However, I feel as if you should know why Mrs. Bowne is so hell bent against you.

"You were part of the Ghost's Militia, were you not?"

I sat down on a near by stool. Mrs. Cunningham shoved a round piece of dough at me and nodded to follow her lead. Squeezing the squishy substance between my fingers I replied with a sigh, "Yes, I was."

She nodded. "To put it bluntly, Mrs. Bowne's father was an officer on one of the caravans the Ghost attacked. They were ambushed in a swamp woodland area. I'm afraid her father was . . . well . . . hacked to bits, as the soldiers say."

My eyes widened and my fingers stilled as I recalled that very caravan. It was the caravan that was the 'secret' I had wheedled from Private Clifford all those months ago. I dropped my gaze, feeling shame creep into me. Fate had an interesting way of tying the most in-sequential things together. "Well, that explains everything," I muttered darkly, attacking the dough with pent up anger.

"There now, deary," the older woman cooed, taking a hold of one of my flour-covered hands. I glanced up into her cool green eyes. This woman was amazing. First she made feel like an insolent child, then like a horrible monster, finally giving me a sympathetic look that made me want to cry. "We all do things we regret, there's no harm in admitting our mistakes. The best we can do is learn from them."

"Yes, but did your mistakes ever get someone killed?" I snapped, feeling tears enter my eyes, which I brushed away angrily. Mrs. Cunningham smirked slightly, and withdrew her hand, working the bread again.

"Does it matter the level of our mistakes? Would you ever do what you did before again?"

My answer was simple and came to my head in an instant. "No."

She smiled. "You came across that faster than expected. Not everyone is so ready to accept they were wrong."

I snorted. "Yea, I can think of a few people like that."

"Like the Colonel?"

"Yea, like the . . ." I paused, my eyes widening slightly. "Wait a minute. What'd are you getting at here?" I eyed the woman suspiciously, and much to my surprised she laughed.

"Honey, if you can't see the way he looks at you, you're not as smart as I thought."

Shaking my head, I tried to hide the blush staining my cheeks. "I-I don't know what you're talking about," I stuttered, glancing away from the woman.

"Please, Stephanie," Caroline interjected, walking past Mrs. Cunningham's station. "The way you two stare at each other. I'm surprised you haven't killed one another or confessed your love, gotten married, and had about six babies by now."

First, my mouth dropped open in shock as Mrs. Cunningham let out a very un-lady like snort. Next was something I couldn't help. I laughed; one of those stomach clenching, eyes watering, out of breath laughs that brought me to my knees as my arms wrapped around myself. "Hardly," I choked out, wiping the tears from my eyes. "I doubt the Colonel has it in him to even care for me."

"I wouldn't be so judgmental of him," Mrs. Cunningham warned. "You'd be surprised how much of a passionate and caring man he can be."

"Other than saving me, what has he ever done that's kind?" I asked with curiosity, although my head kept replYing various scenes by the river and in his tent.

Mrs. Cunningham stilled the motion of her hands, her eyes flashing with sadness before her face was wiped clean, free of any emotions. "There are many things the Colonel has done for the benefit of others, Miss Hawkins.

"When my husband was killed at the Battle of Camden, he easily could have sent me away from camp as a burden to the soldiers. Any other commander would have done so. However, he kept me here, understanding that I have no where else to go. He has provided lodging, board, and above all, protection for me.

"You see Miss Hawkins, you shouldn't judge so harshly or so irrationally." Her green eyes were hard and full of sadness, but admiration and motherly affection were seen just below the depths. I pierced my lips together and sighed, realizing that I was wrong. The old saying _never judge a book by its cover_ echoed in my ears.

"You're probably right, but given my experience with Mr. Knight-In-Shinning-Armor, you can't blame me for a little hostility, right?" I said jokingly.

She smiled then. "Of course. After all, how are we women supposed to keep the men in check?"

I laughed, "You sound like my mother."

Mrs. Cunningham nodded, a kind smile gracing her visage. "If you are anything like your mother, she must have been an extraordinary woman."

Worrying my bottom lip I replied, "Yes, she was. The fact that she was able to handle three boys and me, while holding the house up and keeping my dad from killing himself."

Caroline gasped. "Your father tried to kill himself?"

My eyes widened and then I grinned. "No, no that's not what I mean. My dad was always getting hurt. He kept trying to be Mr. Handyman and fix the things that really, someone else should do and then he would get hurt."

Mrs. Cunningham snorted. "My husband was like that. He insisted he knew what was best, and God forbid anyone tell him different."

"That's my dad. My mom used to say that I got the brains from her and my stubbornness from my father. My brothers just said I was adopted."

Some women looked scandalized, but most heard the humor in my voice and laughed along with me. I smiled then, feeling a sense of satisfaction, and went back to work helping Caroline and many of the other ladies. It seemed that Mrs. Cunningham was the matriarch of the camp followers, and now that she deemed me no longer a threat, the other women were soon no longer hostile in their stares and remarks. Some were even forthright in asking me for help, and speaking to me as if we were sitting down for tea on a normal day.

I smiled as I observed the tent around me, fully of happy women chatting with one another.

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	37. Chapter 37: A Look Through His Eyes

**You guys were really quiet this week. Hopefully this chapter is more to your liking.**

**Chapter quote: **If they had been in another place, and two different people, he would have had no qualms claiming her for his own.

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**Chapter 36: A Look Through His Eyes**

Tavington POV

He had watched her enter into the tent housing the cooking ladies, completely oblivious to his observations. Tavington was listening to the accounts Bordon was giving him but his eyes did not want to leave the form of the girl. Absentmindedly nodding his head, he thought about the experience by the river, and how strange it was to see Stephanie relaxed and happy. She was a completely different person when he went and visited her that afternoon. She wasn't the snobbish girl at the ball, nor the hellcat militia fighter. She seemed to just be a girl enjoying a relaxing afternoon with no troubles and no strings. She seemed to be . . . free.

Dismissing Bordon to carry out some drills for the new recruits, Tavington stalked over toward the cookers tent, not quite knowing what he was going to do when he got there. He stopped outside the entrance when he heard the angry argument between Stephanie and another woman.

"…It's called walking, maybe you've heard of it?" Tavington smirked. Stephanie was definitely a spitfire, and too sarcastic for her own good.

Standing there, he would have thought from what he was hearing that Stephanie had won the little spout, however, the comeback of Mrs. Bowne, whose voice he recognized, just about sent him into the tent himself. Luckily he was saved by the commanding tone of Mrs. Cunningham who broke up what was no doubt going to be a nasty fight, and Tavington would bet everything he had that Stephanie would have come out the victor.

That thought almost made Tavington wince. When did he learn so much about the girl? To be able to predict how she would act? He knew how she thought, the way she walked, he even learned that her eyes sparkle when amused and blaze with fire when she's angry. Tavington felt that he knew far more about her than he should. How did that happen?

Tavington also came to realize, standing outside the tent and listening to the women inside, how alike he and Stephanie really were, and that was why he was attracted to her. There was no used denying it anymore; Colonel Tavington was infatuated with the rebel woman from the militia. Talk about ironic. However, maybe now that he had admitted to that fact, he could rectify it. The last thing he needed was to lose his heart to a girl who likes to argue and fight, and seems to take joy in being sarcastic and somewhat cynical.

That's what he liked about her though. She intrigued him and challenged him in ways no other woman had. Most women fall down at his feet, practically begging for attention, and yet she stood tall and straight, almost as if she was a queen and he a lowly subject. She didn't bend to his will, but had her own that she followed, and as annoying as that was at times, Tavington admitted very quietly to himself that he admired her for it. Not many women in society disagree with a man so publicly and verbally.

He could even understand her being a rebel for she seemed to have a problem with authority. Of course she would join the side where she could fight against the supreme ruler.

When the subject in the tent turned towards him, Tavington ceased his wayward thinking and pressed closer to the canvas, trying to hear what was being said.

"Honey, if you can't see the way he looks at you, you're not as smart as I thought," he heard Mrs. Cunningham say. Was it really that noticeable?

The line from another girl was a bit startling, if not very inappropriate, but Stephanie's comment of "hardly, I doubt the Colonel has it in him to even care for me," made Tavington feel slightly defeated. She was right. There hasn't been much that he has done to her other than belittle and curse her. Maybe there was a way to show her that he did have a kind side and that he did care for her, but what? (After all, if a man could not be honest with himself, what good was there for him?)

Well, he could grant her a little more freedom, something she asked of him. A time without a guard would do the trick, but she could easily run away again. She may have promised not to, but Tavington knew if he was given an opportunity to escape his prison, he would take it so why wouldn't she? Alright then, she keeps the guard. What if he took her for a ride? An image of her beneath him flashed in his head and he had to hastily end that thought before more came from it. That was definitely _not_ what he meant. Damn it, what could he do?

Sighing, in frustration, annoyance and overall exhaustion, Tavington was about ready to head back to his own tent, when the flap was thrown aside and Stephanie came walking out, her head bent low and serious look of concentration on her face. For once her hair was down, falling in large, soft curls over her shoulders and hanging down her back opposed to falling out of the ribbon like she usually had it, and her dark blue skirts swished almost provocatively around her hips, drawing his eyes downward.

"Oh, hey there, Colonel. What's shaking?" She asked, smirking when his eyes moved to hers. Tavington had to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat as she gazed up at him with her jeweled eyes and a smile upon her lips as if she could read his thoughts. Hell, she probably could, and that spark of amusement in her eyes compelled Tavington to stand up straighter and taller.

"'What's shaking?' What on earth does that mean?" Tavington asked gruffly. _At least I didn't squeak,_ he thought ruefully.

She grinned as if saying 'you know exactly what that means.' Unexpectedly the moon moved out from behind a cloud, it's pale, silver rays falling down and illuminating the two people as if they were on a stage and that's when he noticed a white powder gracing her nose and half of her left cheek. He tried not laugh, but a snort did escape.

"What's so funny?" Stephanie scowled indignantly, her hands moving to her petite waist.

An evil smirk appeared as he reached up to scratch the side of his nose. "You have, ah, something gracing your features."

She cocked her head to the side, staring at him confusedly. "Huh?"

Tavington sighed, rolling his eyes, and then reached up to dust the flour off her face, cupping her cheek with one hand to hold her still, while the other brushed the particles away. He didn't, however, anticipate the reaction that would stir in him, and in her. The instant he touched her, her eyes darkened to a dark, rich, chocolate color that was sparkling like the stars above. His mouth went dry and he visibly swallowed, feeling something foreign and unique rousing within him.

She nuzzled his hand, her eyes closing briefly in pleasure before they opened again and regarded him with such innocent trust and affection it was almost unbearable. One hand dropped down her side, his arm encircling her tiny waist and pulling her to him before either could understand what was happening.

"Maybe I should get stuff on my nose more often," Stephanie practically purred, her hands running up his chest to circle his neck, pressing herself up against him and making him want to groan. The feel of her warm body through his cotton shirt was far more pleasurable than what should be allowed.

"I think you should, too," Tavington whispered huskily. He wanted to kiss her, just bend down and take what he knew she would give, but he knew that wouldn't work. Not anymore. She deserved gentleness and compassion, not aggression. He could see the desire in her eyes too. Why doesn't he just do what he sought, reason be damned? _Because there are far too many people around and you're drawing too much attention as it is._ Damn his mind, for it was right.

Tavington glanced up, breaking the spell between him and Stephanie, noticing how some of the soldiers were eyeing the two of them discreetly out of the corner of their eyes. Even though night had fallen, they were both in the lime light from the moon. Tavington wanted to curse anything and everything for his own stupidity. He needed, really truly needed to control his body and his actions. Now was not the time.

Scowling he reached back and seized Stephanie's wrists, disentangling himself from her clutches. Reflexively her hands formed fists as she gazed at him with more confusion and some disappointment. Hell _he _was disappointed. If they had been in another place, and two different people, he would have had no qualms claiming her for his own. As it were, they were both far too conspicuous to have anything happen between them. What he was thinking before was nothing short of insanity, as she so delicately put by the river.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.

_Yes, like this whole arrangement for starters_, Tavington reflected. Keeping the scowl on his face and glaring down at the shorter girl he growled, "You should learn not to be so informal, Miss Hawkins."

Her eyes widened with surprise and hurt, flashing quickly to golden anger. "Me? You're the one you started it," she spat, yanking her wrists out of his hands.

Tavington shrugged nonchalantly, going for a noncommittal approach. "I was merely trying to stop any embarrassment from happening to you. It was you who nuzzled my hand."

"Well you made no moves to stop me before," she huffed. If he hadn't known any better, Tavington would have bet that she would have stomped her foot in frustration. But why would she be frustrated? She doesn't care for him, she'd made that painfully obvious in the way she spoke to him. However, her reactions seemed at times complete polar opposite to her words. "Besides, you were the one being so informal by the river!"

Damn, she had a point. "That was what you called insanity, wasn't it?" he growled right back. She gave him an incredulous stare, disbelief clearly written across her visage. "More to the point," Tavington muttered, brushing past her to head back to his tent. If he could get away, he might actually save something of himself. "That was all in seclusion. No one saw us there."

Suddenly the air seemed to have dropped in temperature by about twenty degrees. Tavington became aware of the stillness and silence as he walked away. Stopping he turned back around, a perplexed look on his face when he heard, "So that's it then?" Stephanie spun around to glare at him, her eyes harder than granite. Tears began to gather as she continued, "only when there's no one around, that's when it matters. That's when you want to be 'informal?'" If the air temperature had dropped, it was nothing to the coldness in her voice.

Tavington sighed; tempted to run a hand down his face but his pride would not allow him to show that kind of weakness in front of the girl. "It's a little more complicated than that—"

"What's so complicated about it? Either you care for me or you don't. There is no other option."

Where the hell had that come from? Stephanie didn't seem to know either for she caught her lip between her teeth, an action she did when nervous or had made some kind of a mistake.

Tavington stood there, not sure how he could go about answering a question that he himself was loath to answer aloud.

"That pause was the conformation I needed." Her voice was soft and full of such pain. She curtly brushed past the Colonel, bumping into his shoulder as she passed. He grabed her upper arm and spun her around to face him.

"Stephanie, don't do this," he whispered in a voice known to make women's knees turn to jelly. "You didn't even give me a chance to explain myself."

Using the same trick that she had in the past, Stephanie spun her arm around, forcing the Colonel to let her go. "You made yourself perfectly clear; and made me a fool on top of that. Seriously! What kind of person leads another on and then tells them they don't care about them?"

"I never said I didn't care," Tavington barked, his annoyance and anger growing quickly.

"Well you have a funny way of showing you do," she countered. "Just . . . leave me alone, alright?" This time she turned and ran away, her skirts billowing behind her like the wings of a wraith and her hair a tangled mess of curls behind her. Even in her state she was breathtaking.

Colonel Tavington stared after the girl, desperately wanting to chase after her, to apologize and beg for forgiveness. However, his feet remained steady and his eyes were the only ones to follow. With a sigh, and running a frustrated hand through his hair, Tavington stomped towards his tent, yelling at any soldier that so much as looked at him, ordering them to get back to whatever they were doing. Stopping just outside his tent flap, Tavington risked a glance at the little shabby piece of canvas cattycorner to his own, noticing no candle was burning inside the little marquee. Hardening his resolve, Tavington frowned and entered his tent.

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Dragoon POV 

Both Captain Wilkins and Captain Bordon had watched the exchange from their place by the fire, each one wincing at the harsh words spoken between Colonel Tavington and Stephanie Hawkins. Both Captains were intelligent enough to know that sparks definitely were flying between their commander and his supposed prisoner, and both knew the girl and the colonel were far too stubborn and proud to admit to these feeling for one another.

When Miss Hawkins stomped away, clearly upset, Bordon and Wilkins knew it was time for intervention. Tavington and Stephanie needed to collaborate and work their differences out so that they may actually come together like both Captains were hoping to see.

It didn't bother them in the slightest that Stephanie had once belonged to the militia. Sure at first they were quite stony towards the girl, but once both men got to know her, they realized she wasn't as bad as they thought. She was actually quite funny, with a very different sort of humor and a kind heart.

Soon following Stephanie, Colonel Tavington seemed quite perturbed himself, yelling at anyone who so much as glanced his way. If neither Captain stepped in, they both knew there would be hell to pay tomorrow. It always seemed that after a fight between Miss Hawkins and Colonel Tavington meant extra drills or longer and rougher raids for the men. For both their sanity, and their Colonel's, action must be taken tonight. But who would get the honor of talking to the colonel?

Both Captains debated over for a few minutes before they realized it was useless. They were going to have to draw straws. Thinking of the same thing, both men nodded, pounding their right fists on their left hand as they said, "Rock, Paper, Scissors, Shoot!"

They had learned that particular game from Miss Hawkins along with a score of other ones including Tic-Tac-Toe and Hangman. Now Bordon wished he had never heard of the game, seeing as he picked scissors and Wilkins rock. Scowling, Bordon suggested best two out of three, but in the end, he knew it was his job as second-in-command to go speak to the Colonel. Bordon only prayed, as Wilkins walked over to Stephanie's tent, that the Colonel wouldn't kill him; at least not before he heard him out. This was going to be interesting.

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**And interesting it will be... stay tuned for next week!**


	38. Chapter 38: Intervention

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, they really make writing worth it, and fo those silent ones, thank you for reading. I also want to send a special thank you to Odyssia who really helped me with this chapter and some of the others coming up. So big thanks all around!**

**Chapter quote: **"You know, if you're trying to put me at ease . . . it isn't working."

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**Chapter 37: Intervention**

Crying was something I had sworn I would never do over a guy again. There was no point to it and it only left you feeling drained and ugly. I had never met anyone who looked good after crying. When the Kevin incident happened, I had thought that any emotion I had for men had been extinguished the moment I had walked into his bedroom. So why did I feel wetness coating my cheeks as I ran away?

As I tore into my tent and flung myself onto my cot, get sobs racking my body, I thought that maybe crying wasn't such a bad thing, especially since I felt like scratching, biting, hitting; pretty much throwing an all out temper tantrum. I bit my lip to stop any noise from issuing from my mouth as my mind and my heart battled with one another. My heart felt as if it was shattering into a million pieces and my head was fully inclined to say 'I told you so.'

Taking several breaths, I rubbed my eyes as I took each and every emotion I was feeling, shoving it into my heart and locking it in. If I could keep my heart locked and surround by a steel case, I might actually have the will power to keep it.

Steadying myself, a huge shadow fell over my tent and Wilkins called out, "Miss Hawkins, are you alright?" I don't know how, but Wilkins had become a friend of mine. He and I were one of the few people in camp who were actually from the Colonies and that gave us some sort of kinship between each other. Wilkins almost took the place of Ian for me.

"I'm fine." I called out, burying my head in my arms as another wave was set upon me. Lily could tell I was upset, and gently meowed, bumping my head with her own.

"Can I come in?"

I sighed, rolling my eyes. _Not really, no_, I thought but gave him leave to do so. Having to practically bend himself in half, Wilkins ducked into my tent, moving my bag from the chair so he could sit down. I was honestly surprised that he didn't have keep his head bent, he was so bloody tall.

"You know, when a girl goes running away crying, that usually means she wishes to be left alone," I told Wilkins, not even picking my head up. After having finally gotten the cold indifference on my face that I wanted, I sat up and pulled Lily into my lap. "And she doesn't want to talk about the thing that everyone saw, so if that's why you're here, you're wasting your time."

He gave me a surprised looked, completely taken aback by my proclamation. "How do you do that? How are you able to predict someone's actions before they even do them?"

I gave him a calculating look, bordering on coldness, but it wasn't Wilkins fault I was feeling this way. "Well, I don't seem to be very good, because I should have predicted that fun little sojourn from before."

"You can't blame yourself for that."

"And why not?" I snapped wiping my cheeks from the wetness coating them. "You heard him. It was my fault that I-that I . . . oh bloody hell, I'm such a fool!" I covered my face with my hands, feeling my barriers collapsing one by one.

"You're not a fool, Miss Hawkins—"

"Yes I am!" I interrupted, picking my head up. Uncurling myself, I let feet dangle over the side of my cot and placed my little cat on the floor where she rubbed my leg and the Captain's. "Wilkins, if I wasn't a fool, I never would have been so 'informal' with that . . . I don't even know what he is!"

Wilkins gave me a sympathetic look. Sitting forward he took my hand to make me focus on him. "He's a man who is just as confused as you."

"No I'm pretty sure he knows exactly what he wants," I growled, yanking my hand away.

Wilkins shook his head, his looking turning to pity. Whether it was directed at me or the Colonel I couldn't tell. "That also isn't true. He has no clue what he wants, because if he did, he would have you."

I didn't want to feel anything from that statement. I just wanted to brush it off with a mental shrug, but my heart seemed to be made of something stronger than steel. I could feel it breaking through the hard walls. "What are talking about?" I scoffed even though my blood warmed at the thought.

"Please, you know exactly what I'm talking about. I know you're smarter and more observant than that."

I smirked. "Then explain it to me, because I'm not getting it."

Wilkins sighed frustrated, rolling his eyes. "He cares for you, probably more than anyone else in this camp."

"Well he has funny ways of showing it," I reiterated, my mood darkening once again.

Wilkins threw his hands up in the air, his eyes flashing with anger. "Stephanie, step away from your own problems for one moment and take a look at the bigger scene. He cares for you, but he is also the Colonel of the Dragoons, a title he does not take lightly. You, probably more than anyone else, also know the extent for he has gone in this war."

"You're making excuses for him."

He shook his head. "No, I'm trying to make you see reason. He wants to be with you, anyone could see that, but he's battling with himself because he knows that the minute he acknowledges it, he could wind up lost and I think that scares him."

Cocking my head in confusion I asked, "What do you mean?"

Wilkins sighed again, running a hand down his face. "Tavington isn't a man known for his heart. He has never fallen for any girl, nor does he want to settle down until he has cleared the name of his family."

"So that means he can't even tell a girl he likes them?" I continued to argue.

"No, it means that Tavington has no idea what to do in this situation. He's trying to keep a certain façade, but you seem to always break it down. After all, the leader of the Green Dragoons is not supposed to care for a colonial militia girl."

I shook my head, saying, "it's like frickin' _Romeo and Juliet!_ Who cares what anyone else has to say? Colonel Tavington doesn't strike me as a man who takes other people's opinions to heart."

"You'd be surprised how much he cares what other people say. It's his father who never cared, and I believe the Colonel is paying the price for it. Stephanie," Wilkins took my hand again. "I know you care for him, so try to understand where he's coming from. Give him another chance. He gave you one."

"I've given him chances, plenty of them. It's not my fault he's too stupid to see what's in front of his face."

Wilkins gave me a tense smile. "I'll admit that he hasn't been thinking too clearly on this matter, but you haven't given _him_ any reason to think you care either."

"I-ah-Well…." My voiced faded away as Wilkins gave me a triumphant smile.

"See?"

"Yes, I see," I snapped, crossing my arms. "Ok, so we're both at fault. What do you think I should do, Oh-Great-Matchmaker?"

Wilkins shrugged. "I don't know, but I'll think of something."

I cocked an eyebrow and said, "You know, if you're trying to put me at ease . . . it isn't working."

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Everyone POV 

Interesting doesn't even cover half of it. Bordon stood outside the Colonel's tent, not quite sure how he was going to proceed--after all, how do you tell your commanding officer that he should suck it up and tell a girl, who is suppose to be an enemy, that you care for them? Not easily, that's for damn sure. Bordon sighed and then mustering all the courage and soldier strength he possessed, cleared his throat, squared his shoulders and proceeded into the tent.

"Colonel?" Bordon glanced around the orderly tent, his eyes finally registering on his commanding officer. Tavington was bent over his desk, most likely going over some old reports, acting as if nothing even happened. However, Tavington's left leg was bounding up and down, a sure sign to Bordon that he was agitated. His work just got harder.

"What can I do for you, Captain?" Tavington asked never even looking up. He merely dipped his quill into an ink well before taking it out again to continue writing.

Bordon took a breath. "Well Sir, I believe . . . that is I think . . ."

Tavington pulled his eyes upward, giving Bordon an annoyed glance. "Come on, Captain, out with it."

"Sir, I believe you're making a grave mistake." There, he'd said it. Now he was praying that Tavington wouldn't take his nice, sharpe saber and run him through.

Tavington's blue eyes flickered surprise. "Oh you do, do you? And exactly what am I making a mistake about?" he asked, setting his quill down and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Bordon couldn't believe it. Was Tavington really that stupid? _At least he's not trying to kill me._

Pointing behind him, Bordon tried to articulate, "With, ah, Miss Hawkins, Sir."

Tavington's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his usual stony indifference hit the forefront. "You heard all of that, didn't you?" Tavington asked, inclining his head towards the outside world.

Bordon nodded. "Aye, Sir, I did."

Tavington sighed, uncrossing his arms and sitting forward. He then proceeded to stand and pour him and Bordon two heavy portions of brandy from a jug on his desk. If there was one thing Tavington's father ever taught him, it was to keep a good spirit around at all times.

Handing the glass to his second-in-command, Tavington reclined back on his chair, motion for Bordon to take a seat opposite him from one of the chairs bordering the table. Each man took a sip, savoring the alcohol and enjoying the burning sensation coursing down their throats and into their bellies.

"Now, how do you believe I am making a mistake, Captain? I think I'm taking the best course of action at this point."

Bordon swished his drink around his glass, praying to the heavens above that he should not be killed this night. "Permission to speak freely, Sir?"

Tavington inclined his head. "Granted."

"I think your best course of action, isn't actually the best for everyone present."

"Everyone being Miss Hawkins?"

Bordon shrugged. "She takes the vanguard. Sir . . . she cares for you, everyone sees it."

Tavington snorted. "Everyone but her it seems."

Bordon shrugged, vainly wishing that Tavington would say 'you're right,' and be done with it. "Maybe," Bordon admitted. "But then shouldn't you try and find out, instead of pushing her away?"

Tavington arched a brow, amused that his second-in-command was worrying over a prisoner. "Captain, need I remind you that we are in a war? As soldiers we do not have the luxury for any kind of life outside of his Majesty's army. We are here only to put down these colonial rebel threats. That is all. I will not delve into another's life just because they may or may not fancy themselves in love." _If only he believed what he had said, everything would be all good._

"Sir, you can't possibly believe that."

"And why not?" Tavington snapped, his anger rising. "Maybe because you haven't had as many unfortunate dealings with Miss Hawkins as I've had that you don't understand. That . . . woman, if you can even call her that, is too vulgar, stubborn, belligerent—"

"And completely your match, Sir," Bordon interrupted, taking a swig of the brandy.

Tavington stopped his rant, glaring at his second. "Excuse me?"

"I mean no disrespect, but Miss Hawkins and you share several characteristics. She is, without a doubt, your match. She's the only woman I have ever seen to go against an order from you, she fights for her beliefs no matter what they are. Do you not count yourself the same?"

Tavington sighed, reaching up to rub his tired eyes. "Bordon, you know why I'm here. I will be returning to England after this all debacle is over, hopefully with my family name cleared and respected again. If I were to act on the feelings you believe are there, how do you believe she would be received by the ton? She is a colonial militiawoman from the backcountry. She would be the laughingstock of London."

Bordon had to bite back a retort along the lines of 'I believe your father already covered that.' However, if he were to say something along those lines, Bordon had no doubt at all that he would be shot and mutilated before the last syllable was out.

"Besides, I have no way to support myself as of yet, let alone a wife and whatever children would come out of a marriage."

_Ahh, so that was the problem._

"Your commission to Colonel pays nicely, does it not?" Bordon asked nonchalantly.

Tavington snorted, draining the rest of his glass. "It's supposed to. I have yet to see anything from it. His Lordship wants to see the outcome of this war before he's going to pay anything," Tavington added bitterly.

"Well surely, with the sum on its way, the idea of at least a courting is still plausible?" Bordon continued, taking another gulp.

Tavington's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why are you so interested in my relationship affairs, Captain?"

"I'm merely thinking about your well being, Sir. I believe that maybe you should talk to Miss Hawkins to set things straight. She looked fairly upset before."

Tavington sighed, closing his eyes briefly as if he was regretting his actions before. He was surprised to feel a sense of remorse in causing Stephanie emotional pain. He knew of the events she had faced in her life, and yet he had thrown all consideration out and had verbally attacked her. If she had felt anything for him, Tavington was sure it had long sense evaporated. "And if I were to . . . take your advice, Bordon," Tavington responded hesitantly, opening his eyes. "How would you propose I go about it? I doubt she would willingly speak to me now."

Bordon sat, thinking. What would he suggest? Stephanie's temper was legendary, almost more so than the Colonel's, so to go and speak to her in the state that she's currently in would be suicide of the highest nature. Hopefully Wilkins was talking sense into her and calming her down. Bordon wasn't sure who had the worse job, him or Wilkins.

"You could, wait for her temper to cool, Colonel, and then maybe take her somewhere private, away from the prying eyes of the camp," Bordon spoke, thinking as he stared into his empty glass. "Then you could explain to her how you really feel, and that what you said was a mistake."

"So you're saying I should apologize?" Tavington spat. He couldn't help but sneer at the motion, his manly pride screaming at him to disregard everything Bordon was saying. However, a little voice, deep inside was urging Tavington to listen, and take Bordon's advice.

"Yes. Apologize. Get on your knees if you have to, but I believe that is the only way to win her back. That is . . . if you want to."

Of course he wanted too. The damned girl wouldn't leave his head, no matter what he did. Tavington even threw himself more into his work, hoping to dissuade the bloody romantic notions traversing through his brain. That did not have the desired effect he wanted. In fact they seemed to concrete themselves more in his conscious.

"That is not an easy thing you're asking me to do, Captain," Tavington responded.

"Is anything involving women ever easy?" Bordon said smiling.

A corner of Tavington's mouth lifted slightly. "No, I don't believe it ever is. Fine, I'll think of something. You are dismissed."

Bordon stood, nodding his head to his commander before he left the tent, leaving the brandy glass on the table as he went. As soon as he was out of the tent, Bordon took a deep breath, proud of himself for getting the Colonel to see reason. Now, if only he would act upon it.

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**Please leave a contribution in the little box.**


	39. Chapter 39: Of Picnics and Talks

**Happy Friday everyone! I'm posting early because _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_ comes out tonight --which is reason enough to celebrate-- however, I'm doing the whole midnight party thing with a bunch of my friends, and then we're having a huge "stay up as long as you can and read as much as you can" kind of party tonight and tomorrow. Needless to say I will be very distracted for a while so I'm posting today so I won't let any of you down. Enjoy!**

**Chapter quote: **I knew how everything would end and that life would become alright again, but the road to that point was going to be a hard one.

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**Chapter 38: Of Picnics and Talks**

Ok. So I liked him. A lot. No arguments, no questions, no reasons to defy that fact and according to Wilkins it was time I showed my feelings. HA! Right, I'd like to see him try to go and confess his feelings to Colonel Tavington . . . actually, that would be really funny in a sick, twisted kind of way. More to the point, the reaction I would receive would probably kill me, literally and figuratively. He had already made it _very_ clear what his reactions to the whole shebang really were.

Growling, I fell back against the cot, Wilkins having left about a half hour before. Lying there as Lily rubbed herself up and down my side, I realized it was high time I stopped thinking so cynically and start taking some kind of action. What that was I had no idea. I was still slightly confused by my feelings, let alone trying to explain it to someone else. But I had too, I needed to. My heart was screaming at me to take control of the situation, to stop running and start listening. However my brain and the large amount of reason I had were arguing against my heart, urging me to not let Tavington come to me; to be angry at his callousness and to keep him at the end of a very large stick.

I nearly wept, feeling myself going back and forth as half of me battled with the other. Life was far simpler at Fresh Water, when all I had to worry about were getting the fields planted and helping Abigale with whatever chores she asked of me. When I could sit by the fire and read to the children or tell stories like _Beauty and the Beast_ and _The little Mermaid_. When I could just sit and talk to Ben, the man who had become my father and loved me as a daughter. I missed that life, free from pain and anger and fear.

But that was not the life I had dreamed of and in the end it wasn't the life I had wanted. I wanted a life of adventure and I sure as hell seem to have gotten my wish. If only my wish had and ending similar to those in my stories instead of the nightmare I feared it was becoming. There was so much pain between Tavington and me, both physically and mentally. There was our rank in society, our families, our very _time periods_ were different.

Part of me wanted to tell him who I really was and the place I had come from, but I knew that until he figured out what he really felt for me, there was no way he would ever believe anything that I told him. I hated that there was that barrier of lies and deceit between us. A relationship based off of falsehoods is no relationship at all.

As I laid on my cot and contemplated my situation, I could feel my body become heavier and heavier, as if the weight of the world and the force of gravity were slowly pushing down on me, harder and harder. I couldn't breathe and I couldn't think. However, somewhere deep inside the hidden recesses of my heart, the place that I had locked away from the rest of the world, a source of warmth came flying out, flooding my senses and pushing that horrible panic attack far away from me. I felt relaxed and open to my emotions. I felt . . . free. And from that I was able to fall asleep, and receive the best sleep and the best dreams I had ever had.

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and scorching. South Carolina summers were not known for the cooler, slightly dryer summers I was used to in Connecticut. Instead, they were incredibly hot, unbearably humid, and ridiculously hazy. A perfect time for a picnic, at least according to Caroline who sauntered up to my tent as the sun, hardly past nine in the morning, was already warming the earth to uncomfortable levels. More than anything I wanted to wear the shorts and tank tops I had stored away in my backpack. However, given the time period I was stuck in, long skirts and heavy blouses were what I had to suffer with; that is unless I wanted to raise an uproar with my taboo. Tempting, but I didn't want the wrath of anymore camp followers waging war on me. 

After another hour, Caroline and I had managed to pack a nice lunch in an old basket consisting of meat, cheese, bread, and an assortment of fruits. Not much by the way of things, but for an army camp as large as the Dragoons, the fact that there was a variety of food was pretty dang good. I packed an old blanket into my bag, my sketch book, and some other miscellaneous things, for not only were Caroline and I taking a little trip, but her three younger siblings as well.

"Where are your parents anyway?" I asked Caroline as we trudged to a cool, shady spot about a half mile up river.

"Well, Father is out on a patrol and Mother went into town with some of the other ladies," Caroline responded, shifting her seven month old baby sister, Elizabeth, from her right hip to her left. "It was nice of Colonel Tavington to grant some of the ladies leave."

I frowned, my grip on the heavy basket tightening. "I didn't know you had to receive permission to go anywhere."

Caroline rolled her eyes and shook her head as she smiled. She knew how independent I was and how much I hated asking permission to do anything. "They have to ask permission so that a guard may go with them. Not all men are kind, and would harm my mother and the other ladies if they were to venture alone."

"Well, there is that," I conceded. Caroline laughed, and bumped me with her hip as her nine year old brother and fourteen year old sister ran by us. Shooting a glare at Caroline out of the corner of my eye, I shouted after the children when I regained my balance, "watch where you're going you two!" I was just waiting to see one trip and face plant into the ground.

"Don't worry, James and Margaret will be fine," Caroline said to me.

Never removing my stare from the younger children, I asked, "How can you not worry that one of them will get hurt?"

Caroline shrugged, shifting the baby again and making sure Elizabeth's white bonnet covered her pale face. "If they get hurt, they get hurt. You can't always dictate another person's actions; sometimes they have to find out things for themselves."

Thinking about what Caroline said, we continued to trudge after the children, the dry grasses lightly snagging our skirts while the unrelenting sun beat down on our heads. The air was so sticky with humidity it was almost becoming unbearable and I wish I had Caroline's good sense to wear a bonnet to keep the sun from burning my face.

Luckily, neither little Jimmy nor Maggie (the nicknames I gave them) tripped, and were in fact sitting by the river, their bare feet dangling in the water when Caroline and I walked up. I set the basket down on the ground, my arm having begun to hurt, and shed my backpack from my back, grimacing at the way the sweat clung my shirt to my skin. Wiping away sweat that had accumulated on my brow, I extracted my wineskin from the bag and took a healthy sip. The cool water sliding down my throat was a refreshing reprieve from the hot air.

The children ran around, laughing merrily while Caroline and I laid the blanket out and placed Elizabeth on it so she could have somewhere soft to crawl. How they could have all this energy in this heat was remarkable. Little Lizzy cooed softly and laughed as I began to set up the food while Caroline went over to splash some water on her face to cool her down.

"Hey Caroline, did we forget the other wineskins?" I asked, shifting various objects around.

Caroline glanced up from the river, water droplets running down her face. "Are you positive they aren't in the basket?"

I continued to dig, my confusion growing more and more. I had packed them, I was sure of it and yet the wineskins were no where to be found. "Yea, they're not here." I sat back onto the balls of my feet, turning my attention to the river. "They must have gotten left at camp."

"I'll go back and get them," Caroline offered, a little quickly in my opinion, wiping her hands down her face and then on her apron to remove the excess water. "It shan't take me long. I'll take Margaret and James with me."

I cocked my head in confusion. "You don't have to take both of them; leave Jimmy here."

"Jimmy?" Caroline questioned as her own confusion mounted.

Realizing that maybe those nicknames were slightly informal I said, "Yea, it's just a nickname I've heard used for James. Maggie can be shortened for Margaret. I hope you don't mind that I used them." I feared Caroline becoming angry with me, something I had never feared in the past. Caroline was fast becoming a good friend and close confidant. To lose her friendship would be horrible and heartbreaking.

"No, it's alright. I like them," she smiled. "Alright, I take . . . Maggie back with me. We won't be long."

Calling her younger sister over, Caroline and Maggie set off back to camp, talking merrily between one another. Watching the act of sibling devotion made me long for my own brothers, most especially Tommy, to be able to confide in and share my heart with. Although there had been things I had not shared with my older brother, Tommy was still my best friend in the whole world. We were only four years apart, instead of the ten that was between Bryan and I, or the eight separating James with me. Tommy and I were closest in appearance, in personality, and even the way we walked was the same. Most of the time we were mistaken for twins instead of younger and older siblings. I loved my brother with all my heart and missed him terribly.

Now James and I were by all accounts, total opposites. He favored our father's looks; green eyes and light brown hair as well as our father's personality. James loved science and technology. He would take things apart just to see how they operated and then put them back together. Of course there were a few things he couldn't put back—like my mother's vacuum cleaner for one— for which he would usually have to buy a replacement. It took a great deal to anger James and even then you would hardly know he was angry. He took changes with stride and hardly ever complained; he loved moving to Connecticut and made friends faster than humanly possible. James was my rock and foundation.

Finally Bryan, the oldest of us four, was in every way a leader. He was my Leonardo and I his Rafael. We butted heads more often than not, and many times we could barely stand to be in the same room with one another. He and I shared our mother's brown eyes, but his hair was black like Mama's. Only Tommy and I had the distinctive auburn look that sprouted from Grandmother McKellar— our Scots ancestor.

Ten years difference was at first a burden between Bryan and me, but once we both matured a bit more, we slowly began to tolerate each other; finally creating a bond. We had become a united family only to leave one another and move all over the country.

Bryan married, had two daughters, and moved to Seattle; to be close with his wife's family. James also married and moved to Omaha to pursue a career in the cattle industry. Tommy's move was the hardest for me. Three months before graduation, Tommy got an internship in the U.S. National Archives and Records Administration. Trust me, I hadn't heard of it either. So he packed up and headed down to D.C. where I was going to be visiting him the day after graduation. Apparently Fate had other ideas in regards to me.

I could hear Jimmy playing with something behind me, his laughter echoing all around. I smiled, despite the despondent feelings I was experiencing. Because of this war, a child's laugh was rare and almost unheard of commodity. To hear Jimmy laughing and enjoying himself gave peace to my heart. I knew how everything would end and that life would become alright again, but the road to that point was going to be a hard one.

"Is that a real sword?" I heard Jimmy ask.

Completely confused by that random statement I turned around and started to say, "Jimmy, what on earth are you talking about?" when the words died in my throat. Standing there looking down as Jimmy poked the scabbard tucked in his side was Tavington. Just one look from his blue eyes was enough to make my heart freeze in my chest. Turning his attention to the young boy at his side, Tavington withdrew his saber from its protective encasement and for one horrible moment I thought he was just going to lop the boy's head off. Instead, he crouched down until he was eye level with Jimmy, laying his sword on the palms of his glove-covered hands.

"Yes, this is a real sword," Tavington said, holding the sword for the boy to examine.

Jimmy stared wide-eyed at the glinting steel. Tentatively he reached a hand out to touch it when I quickly jumped up and snatched his hand back. "Jimmy, no. That's not for touching." Turning my glare to Tavington, I remarked, "Don't let him touch your sword; he's going to cut his hand on it."

The Colonel stood, sheathing his blade and giving me his usual Tavington look. "Young boys are curious."

"Haven't you ever heard the saying curiosity killed the cat?" I snapped back, checking Jimmy's hand to be sure he wasn't accidentally cut by the sharp blade.

Tavington shrugged, his damn cocky smirk plastered on his visage. "Can't say that I have."

I rolled my eyes as Jimmy wriggled his hand around until I let him go. "Do you kill rebels with that?" he asked, side stepping in front of me.

"Jimmy!"

Tavington continued to smirk, sending me a triumphant look as he crouched down again. "More than a few," he answered.

"I want to go fight the rebels, but my Papa says that I'm too young," Jimmy admitted, his young shoulders drooping with disappointment.

"And how old are you?" Tavington asked.

"In turned ten in July."

"Well, your father is right. I'm afraid you are a bit too young to ride with the Dragoon just yet."

Jimmy's lip began to quiver as the tell-tale sign of a crying fit was going to come on. As if sensing it himself, Tavington went on, "But that doesn't mean you can't fight for King and Country."

"Colonel…" I warned through clench teeth.

"How?" Jimmy asked, his young eyes wide with hopefullness.

Tavington glanced up a me for only a moment, a definite spark to his eye that put me on guard straight away. "I need to know that I have men here I can trust to look after the women when the Dragoons ride out on patrols and raids. Can I trust you to keep your mother and sisters safe? And Miss Hawkins as well?"

I gave Tavington and incredulous look, not believing that he was actually asking that of Jimmy. Oh there was going to be hell to pay later.

Jimmy sniffed and then nodded. "Good," Tavington smiled, standing up and ruffling the boy's dark hair.

"I'm going to go find my sisters and tell them I'm a soldier!" With that Jimmy took off back towards camp as fast as his little legs could carry him.

I watched until a bush obstructed him from my view. Growling, I faced Tavington, my hands moving to my hips and said, "You know, you really shouldn't encourage him."

He turned to face me, a scowl coming over his features. "This coming from the girl who fought as a man in the militia?"

My glare hardened as his words stung me. "As surprising as it is, I regret many of the things I've done in the past, and I don't need you bringing them up for me." I turned and stormed over to the blanket, snatching Elizabeth up before she could crawl off.

"Miss Hawkins, as much as your animosity towards me seems unnaturally high at this point, there are some things I have come to discuss with you. And I don't have much time; General Cornwallis has requested my presence tonight."

Placing the infant back in the middle of the blanket, I didn't even hear the last part. Instead, I threw over my shoulder, "there's nothing to talk about. You made your decision very clear."

"I made nothing clear. You never even let me explain—"

"What's there to explain?!" I snapped, standing up and facing Tavington as he walked towards me.

"Much, if only you would only hold your tongue!" he snapped with fervor.

I snapped my lips together, taking a breath to keep my anger high. In the past anger was my security blanket and I wasn't about to change old habits, no matter how much my heart urged me too. "Then speak, but I do not guarantee I'll listen."

I could tell that the Colonel was trying his hardest not to become angry with me. His eyes hardened and his scowl grew, but he made no move to hurt me in anyway. "You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met, has anyone told you that?"

I smirked. "A few times actually. Now say what you want and be gone." I could feel Elizabeth trying to use my skirts to stand so I reached down and picked the child up, cradling her to my shoulder.

"It's amazing to me that one moment you can be so warm, and the next hating me with all your worth," Tavington remarked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You give me reasons to hate you."

"As do you."

"Then why are we speaking to each other?"

"Why indeed."

I pursed my lips in annoyance, sporting a very nice glare aimed at Tavington. Elizabeth started to fuss, using her little fists she pushed away from me, wanting to be placed on the ground. Sighing, I set her down on her stomach, making sure that nothing would be poking her, and nothing was in her reach to choke on.

I could hear Tavington sigh with frustration, before he crouched down and took my hand, forcing me to stand along with him. "Let's stop all this hostility between us, Stephanie," he whispered, tucking a curl that had come loose from ribbon behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my cheek. I had always marveled how Tavington's hands, so hard and calloused, could still be so gentle. His touch was almost a seduction in itself.

"Then tell me what I want to know," I responded flatly, vainly trying to keep my mind focused. Damn hormones.

"And what do you want to know?"

My stare bore into his; warm amber against cold blue. It's been said that the window into a person's soul is in their eyes, and that those who can read the eyes can read a person's soul. I searched desperately in the blue fire eyes of Tavington for any kind of answer to the questions that lay in my heart. I should have been trying to look though a stonewall, for I would probably have gained more results. The window into Tavington's soul was closed, locked, and covered. "Do you even care for me, because after the conversation last night—"

"What's said is said, I can't take it back," Tavington interrupted softly. Taking both my hands in his, he concentrated on our joined limbs, as if debating with himself. "I came here to . . . apologize."

"Apologize? You?" I almost laughed. "Hell must have frozen over."

His head snapped up and his eye blazed. Instead of being apathetic, they became tide pools of emotions. Regret, longing, anger, desire all swirled around in his light irises. "Do not make light of this situation, Stephanie. I'm being completely serious."

"And so am I," I responded, extracting my hands and turning my back on him. "You hurt me and I'm not going to beat around the bush and try to make it seem like it was nothing."

His hands fell on my shoulders and forced me to turn around again to face him. "For that I am sorry. It was never my intention to hurt you."

It was ironic that only a few months early, he had been trying to break me.

"You haven't answered my question," I glared at him, shrugging his hands off.

"And what question is that?" he snipped.

"Do you care about me, or am I some closet mouse for you to string along?" I stopped and took a breath, my eyes stinging with tears as I asked my final question. "Do you love me?"

* * *

**Hmmm, how do you think Tavington will answer? Review please!**


	40. Chapter 40: Discoveries

**Thank you to all of your wonderful reviews! They really give me the spark to write. Now I wonder what Tavvy says in regards to the question formally voiced.**

**Chapter quote: **Karma sucks monkey balls.

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**Chapter 39: Discoveries**

I waited with batted breath, my heart pounding and a thousand thoughts running through my head. _That's it, I'm done. He's so going to hate me after this. How could he not, I mean I all but asked him to walk down the aisle. _

Tavington stood there in front of me, completely impassive except for his eyes. Emotions were swirling around like a frenzied whirlpool, and I had a feeling that he was fighting with himself. An idea that put me very much on edge.

"Stephanie . . . I care for you more than life itself."

_**Wait . . . what?**_

"Come again?" I whispered shocked.

Tavington smiled a reassuring, genuine smile that made me feel as if I were floating on a cloud. Taking my hand again, he brought the back of it up until his lips brushed over the skin. "I said that I care about you more than life itself. I was a fool to try to dissuade myself any longer," he answered. He seemed as if a great burden had been lifted off his shoulders when he finally told me how he felt.

My damn lungs didn't seem to want to work, holding my breath in and not releasing it like some kind of warden. "I . . . I . . ." I was speechless. "I can't believe it," I muttered, never actually meaning to say it aloud.

"You asked a question, I answered; if you choose not to believe that is on your own accord," he shrugged, although I could tell that instead of being impassive, he was probably more nervous than me.

**_He didn't say love, keep that in mind._** The irrational part of my mind screamed.

_Shut up._

Horses' hooves echoed in the distance, and I noticed Bordon come riding up behind Tavington, the Colonel's horses tethered behind him. I felt like a codfish, opening and closing my mouth with no sound issuing. "Are you feeling ok?" I asked sincerely.

Without any hesitation, Tavington grabbed my shoulders, pulling me to him for a searing kiss, whispering afterwards, "I've never felt better. Come find me when you believe." Then he left without another word, leaping into the saddle and riding out without a backward glance.

I stood there shocked for a few minutes until I heard the laughter and shouts of Caroline, Maggie, and Jimmy reach my ears. Kneeling down next to a cooing Elizabeth, I contemplated how I wanted to proceed past today and that's when I realized Tavington had just left to head for Fort Carolina. I could feel my face drain of all color as my heart screeched to a stop. _Damn._

"Stephanie, are you alright?" Caroline asked concerned, kneeling next to me. I hadn't even realized she had made it all the way back. "Did your talk with the Colonel go wrong?"

"No, it went fine, he—" I paused, the question Caroline asking me registering in my head. "Hang on. How did you know I was speaking with the Colonel?"

Her eye's widened guiltily and cheeks grew red. "Well- you see, and it wasn't just me, but—"

"You sent Tavington after me." It was more of a statement than a question.

She winced. "In a matter of speaking . . . yes, but it wasn't my idea! James came to me with this brilliant plan and I thought that maybe if you two finally admitted your feelings for one another, this camp might finally settle down."

"Who's to say it was going to work? And who the hell is James?" I asked annoyed. What was it will everyone interfering in my life!

Sheepishly, Caroline replied, "I meant Captain Wilkins, and I did just thought that maybe if you talked—"

"Look, stop acting like I'm going to chop your head off or something. Colonel Tavington and I talked. Everything's all squared away." _**Kinda**_

"Really?" Caroline asked, slightly shocked. I think that like me, she couldn't believe that Tavington and I had actually squared away our differences . . . to a point. "Well then, what happened? Has he seen the error of his ways?"

"I guess you could say that," I admitted grudgingly. "He was a bit confusing; That's pretty much the best way to describe him."

"Confusing? How? What did he do?" she asked.

Counting off on my fingers, I explained to Caroline everything that had happened. "He offered his sword to your brother, told Jimmy he was a soldier, argued with me that young boys are curious, apologized—trust me, I was just as shocked as you—answered a very important question, kissed me, and then . . . left. It was all a bit rushed if you ask me."

Caroline's eyes shifted back and forth in shock, processing everything that she had heard. "Well . . . that sounds wonderful, I suppose."

"I guess," I shrugged. "I didn't believe him when he said he cared for me."

"And why not?!" Caroline barked, her green eyes flashing. "Are you really that daft, or am I just hoping you're suffering from some illness right now. He cares for you, he said so himself!"

I jumped from Caroline's outburst, having never heard her be so blunt and aggressive. "Woah, slow down there. Alright, maybe I should have said I didn't believe him _at first_. I never actually thought he would admit to anything. Now that he has . . . well. . . I don't know what to do," I sighed, my head dropping into my hands.

"Isn't it obvious?" Caroline questioned matter-of-factly. "You tell him you care too! That would solve everything!"

Lifting my head up, I tried to smile reassuringly for Caroline had a love for the romantics, but my fear of discovery was keeping me from thinking optimistically. "Maybe . . . or make things worse."

Caroline rolled her eyes. "You suffer from too much theatrics, Stephanie. Let's see what tomorrow brings us and then we'll worry about the future."

What Caroline said brought back the thought that tomorrow would bring changes, but whether they were for good or bad I had yet to predict. In a matter of hours, Tavington would learn more of my past, and I feared that that knowledge would wedge in-between us a bigger road block than one we had faced before.

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Hours later I stood outside my tent, pacing back and forth that someone awaiting their execution. I had no clue when Tavington would be arriving back from the Fort, I only knew it was somewhere around dusk. Worrying my lip, and twisting my hands, I felt as if some kind of snake was spazzing out inside of my stomach. Butterflies bigger than 747s were flying around inside of me and no amount of deep breaths, or soothing thoughts seemed to calm them down. This is why I hated being left behind. The worry and the fear associated with waiting; I'd rather be right there in the middle of everything, fighting for myself than to linger behind. 

How much I loathed waiting, but it seemed that was the only thing I seemed to be doing recently. Wait for the Colonel to realize his feelings, wait for me to realize mine, wait for Ben to rescue me (if he ever does. I doubt he even knows if I'm alive or not), wait for the discovery of the Ghost, wait for the burning of the church; a problem I had no idea how I was going to solve. It's has been nothing but waiting!

If only I could just get some kind of remote or something to speed time along so that the thing I'm dreading most can be done and over with. Life seemed to be nothing but one big wait. It seems as if one waits for such a long time for things to happen and then BAM! they're done in nothing flat. If only my fear of discovery could get done and over with.

Caroline and Wilkins had tried to coax out of me why I was so agitated the moment the McKay's and I had arrived back at camp but I was ambiguous in my answers; merely stating that they would find out soon enough. Both had warmed up to me, I could even now count them as friends, but would the knowledge of me being the Ghost's foster daughter put a damper on our relationship? I prayed to God that it would not be so. As for me and Tavvy? Hell, I'll be lucky if he doesn't lop my head off the moment he sees me. It figures, he tells me the very thing I've been waiting to hear for months, and then he finds out a very big, very important chunk of my past. Karma sucks monkey balls.

The sun had soon set, darkening the camp and turning the trees into black shadows. Mists crept in like silent ghosts and clouds were beginning to gather over head, most likely forecasting a storm heading our way. I tried to stop my pacing and just relax, but my apprehension was too great. Damn it all.

The pounding of hooves resounded in the distance, stilling my feet and freezing my heart. My hands began to shake even worse than before as a dull ringing buzzed in my ears. Turning my eyes to the east, I saw Bordon and Tavington come riding in as if Satan himself was on their heels. They both rode by me, neither turning a glance or even acknowledging I was there, and headed instead for one of the soldiers' commune tents—the very tent Wilkins had gone to take a nap in.

Swallowing my fear, I hiked up my skirts above my knees—scandalous for that time period—and scurried over to the large canvas tent as fast as I could. Dodging horses, men, bayonets, and followers, I reached the tent in enough time to hear Wilkins say, "Benjamin Martin," questionably.

I had already been breathing heavily, but I still could not help but gasp at hearing Ben's name finally given to the Colonel.

"What do you know about him?" Tavington asked.

"Hell everything, I could tell you the size of his boot."

_Here goes nothing,_ I thought, bursting into the tent as Tavington asked, "Does he have family? Where would he hide his children?"

"James Wilkins!" I exclaimed running up to the right of Tavington. "If you say one more word, I'll rip out your tongue," I warned him, point my finger at him like a mother does to scold her child.

All the men turned their attention to me, shocked by my outburst and sudden appearance. Wilkins swallowed visibly, his eyes shifting between me and Tavington who I had yet to look at. When I did glance at him, Tavington eyes blazed fire hotter than the sun and it was my turn to feel myself shrinking under his gaze.

"Miss Hawkins, you over step yourself," Tavington growled, grabbing my arm in a death grip and sending me backwards toward the exit of the tent. "I will speak with you later."

I stumbled slightly with the force that he had sent me back, righting myself as Tavington turned his back to me. However, I could see Tavington pause in his movements, no doubt the light bulb going off over his head. With a perplexed look about him, the Colonel spun around, seized my arm, and pulled me forward so I was back next to him. I felt like some rag doll with the way I was being so manhandled.

I tried not to show my trepidation, but it was difficult with Tavington so close to me as he processed the information given to him like a computer. His eyes bore into mine like scalpels into skin. I bit my lip and tried to pull myself away from him, but Tavington held on close.

I had come to learn, being in the Dragoon camp and discovering so much of him, that Tavington was in fact a living Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. It's the best analogy I could think of. Well, that or the Hulk. In any case, whenever it's just me and him alone, without the presence of the soldiers or any sign that the war is going on, that's when he is at his kindest. That is the time when he's human enough to have compassion and mercy and humor. That's the man I came to care about.

But the minute the war is mentioned, or a soldier appears, that's when Mr. Hyde—a.k.a. the Butcher—emerges for everyone to see and judge. The world doesn't see the man; they see the monster that's at face value and they are more than willing to judge the monster than the human that is hiding underneath. No one takes the time, or the effort, to peel away the layers of anger, malice, and indifference. I did, without ever meaning to.

But standing there in the middle of the soldier's commune tent, my upper arm held in a vice like grip and all the attention focused on me and the man standing across, I knew I wasn't looking at Tavington, or William as I sometimes referred to him in my head. I was looking at the Butcher in all his glorious forms. That's the only time that I actually feared Tavington.

With a jerk, he released my arm as if he had been burned, scrutinizing my face as if he didn't even know who I was anymore.

"You were the outspoken girl on that farm," Tavington stated. "I remember you . . . . . . . You're the Ghost's daughter."

Letting out a nervous laugh, I did the only thing I could think of. I turned tail and ran. Cowardly—probably; immature— most likely; self-persevering— you betcha, but I was more than willing to give up my pride for continued existence.

See the thing about the plans I come up with, they don't always end up the way I pictured them in my head. In fact, they tend to do the opposite of what I was expecting. Like running away for instance. I _had_ pictured getting out of the tent, running for my own tent, packing up and getting the hell out of dodge before anyone realized I was missing. Unfortunately, being stuck at the back of a tent with six or so Green Dragoons, I was lucky to make it ten steps before hands grabbed me and threw me down to the ground at the Colonel's feet like some sack of potatoes before he could even utter the words, "seize her!"

I stared at the grass beneath my hands, bunching it into my fists while I tried my best to avoid looking at anyone in the tent. I could feel the heat build in my cheeck and my fear began to peak. _What would they do to me?_ I questioned. Through my peripheral vision I noticed Tavington crouch down in front of me, making my head turn even further away, but fingers under my chin forced my gaze up to meet his.

"Interesting development, wouldn't you say Miss Hawkins?" There was no kindness in his eyes, or any showing of mercy. There was just cold indifference.

Shaking his head as if disappointed by my lack of response, Tavington stood and ordered, "You there! Escort Miss Hawkins to my tent. I wish to speak with her after Wilkins and I have a little chat about the upcoming raid."

The last part was directed at me and nothing could stop me from feeling as if I had let the militia, Ben, and all the Martin children down. Hands grabbed me and yanked me out of the tent as Wilkins gave the whereabouts of Charlotte and the children. I walked quietly and serenely over to the Colonel's tent, knowing that the conversation that would happen in there would either make or break me.

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**Oh boy, is this getting tense. Review, let me know what you think!**


	41. Chapter 41: Chess

**Since many of you were asking for an early update, I have decided to grant one to you, because your reviews mean so much to me. This is one of my favorite chapters so far, so i hope you like it as much as I do.**

**Chapter quote: **"I am not the Ghost's daughter by blood. I am however his _foster_ daughter and I owe Benjamin Martin more than you could possibly understand."

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**Chapter 40: Chess**

I was shoved into the tent unceremoniously, a whole string of curses just waiting to be issued from my mouth but I kept them at bay. The soldiers were just doing what they were ordered; it's not right for me to be angry at them. Instead, I would save those curses for Tavington for he's the one that deserves them the most.

In the short walk between the commune tent and the Colonel's, my anger had grown and my fear subsided. Why should I let someone else's opinion of myself matter to me? I have always been proud of the person I am, even if mistakes have been made in the past. I would never trade my individuality for anything and if someone doesn't like me because of it, then that's their problem; not mine.

Glancing around the tent, I noticed that nothing had changed. Things were still spotless, only the desk showed any signs of disorganization. Papers littered the surface of the wood, as well as two open bottles of ink and several quills thrown haphazardly about. I stood there for several seconds, my hands subconsciously pulling my hair back into a ponytail and tying it as tight as possible with ribbon. I longed for my hair ties, but in the four years I had been in South Carolina, all my hair ties have either been broken or lost.

With nothing else to do, I dropped my arms with a sigh and began to walk around the tent's main room, my left hand trailing over the tops of the carved, wooden chairs placed around the table. How was I going to explain myself this time? I suppose just tell Tavington the truth and hope for the best. He had admitted that he cared for me, and as much as the shock of my origin came to him, I have a hunch that his feelings for me haven't changed. When Tavington gets a thought in his head, there's no altering it without a whole lot of effort. Now that's not to say that he isn't going to be royally pissed, oh boy will he, but I have to make him understand that that's who I am. I can't change it, nor would I want to if I could.

When my feet reached the opposite end of the table to the door, I turned back around so that I could sit closer to the entrance of the pavilion. However, I turned rather quickly and lost my balance, my hip bumping a box that was hanging over the edge and making it crash to the floor. As it hit, the lid to the box sprung open while chess pieces came flying out of their respected places like a bomb had gone off.

"Shit," I spat in a whisper, kneeling down to pick the pieces up. As I was doing so, I came across the board belonging to the game. Mentally shrugging, I gathered everything into the hammock I had made my apron into and dumped everything on the table, deciding to set up the board as I went along.

Soon, everything was arranged in perfect order so I sat down in the chair opposite the black pieces when a firm, very annoyed voice spat, "What on Earth are you doing?!"

I jumped, my attention quickly turning to the entrance of the tent where a very irate Colonel stood glowering at me.

"What's it look like I'm doing?" I questioned back dryly, slouching against the back of the chair.

"It looks as if you're delving into my things," he lazily remarked, taking careful steps over towards the black side of the chess board, hands clasped behind his back.

I snorted. "And what need would I have of 'delving' into your things?"

"Well seeing as you are, shall we say, a Daughter of the Revolution," he attested, stopping and gripping the back of the chair opposite me, his eyes the bricks of ice I had come to know. "Spying would be a very convenient way to aid your side."

"My side," I purred, feeling very much like Tia Dalma before growing serious and snapping out, "You know I'm not a spy. I've told you that." Tavington smiled, a very Judas-esque smile that was a frozen wasteland.

"I don't think I know that much about you, actually."

"You know far more about me than anyone else."

"Indeed," he sneered, pulling a chair back to sit opposite me, his gaze never wavering from mine. As soon as he was down, I moved one of my pawns forward two spaces; initiating a game of chess for no reason I could thing of. Tavington glanced downward at the board, raising an eyebrow in confusion. Reaching forward, he too moved one of his black pawns forward two spaces, right in front of mine.

"Tell me why you lied to me." Tavington's tone was calm and collective, but one glance upward showed me how tense he actually was. His mouth was as thin and taunt as a fishing line (making me think for a moment of McGonagall) and his eyes were still hard as stone, but something akin to betrayal were swirling within their depths. Apparently the confession of my heritage was more of a blow to him that I had originally thought.

Moving the pawn directly to the right of my other pawn I said quietly, "I have never lied to you."

A hand slammed down on the table, rattling the pieces and making me jump in surprise. "Yes you did!" Tavington spat.

With a hand to my chest, feeling the wild beating beneath my breast I explained again, "I didn't. Surprisingly I've told you nothing but the truth. If you choose not to believe that, it's your own problem."

Tavington glanced back at the chest board, the oceanic windows on his visage moving back and forth across the board until his black pawn moved to the right to take mine. "You told me your father and brothers were dead," he insisted.

The white bishop was moved far forward while the black queen engaged in battle, checking my king. Moving him out of the way I sighed, "My family has been lost to me, never before have I lied about that."

"Then why did you run when I said you were the Ghost's daughter? Why did you flee?" There was an edge of desperation in his voice.

"What would you have done in my position?" I barked out annoyed. "I did the only thing I could think of. Maybe it was cowardly, but I'm tired of being brave all the time!"

Tavington continued to sneer at me, leaning further back in his chair as he contemplated the chess board. A black pawn was taken by a white bishop, and two knights of opposite allegiances were moved before I spoke again, his silence becoming unnerving amongst the noise from the camp.

"I am not the Ghost's daughter by blood. I am however his _foster_ daughter and I owe Benjamin Martin more than you could possibly understand." The black queen moved back toward her army as another of my pawns moved forward to attack.

"How so?" Tavington barked out with a scoff. "What could you possibly owe to a man who has killed more officers of the Crown than any man of His Majesty's Army?"

Tavington moved his queen closer to one of his pawns as I moved my knight up one and over three spaces, away from the side of the board at the same time raising my gaze to level with his determinedly. The past was unrolling across my brain in a movie reel fashion as I recalled the very moment the 18th became my 21st.

"Because he saved my life more times than I can count, and has asked for nothing in return."

Tavington flicked his eyes off the board, after having moved another pawn forward. His gaze connected with mine and I had to fight to hold it. "He saved your life?" he asked.

"You seemed surprised," I shot back, also moving one of my pawns.

He merely lifted a brow. "Surprised? Perhaps. The fact that you allowed him to save your life is what I believe, more surprising than anything."

"What's that suppose to mean?" I threatened.

"You don't know? It's what I have been saying for months. You are one of the most stubborn, independent, arrogant, selfish women I have ever come across. To allow someone to help you in anyway is somewhat unbelievable."

"Boy, you sure know how to flatter a girl," I mumbled sarcastically under my breath, the white rook on the right side moving over one space after Tavington had moved his black knight. The game seemed to be becoming a never ending show of advances and retreats.

Increasing the volume of my voice I responded, "I told you. I may be independent, but I'm not stupid. I knew that I needed help and he was more than willing to grant me that help. I doubt you would have gone so far as to stitch me up, offer me protection and all that.

"And what are you complaining for? If it wasn't for Ben Martin, I wouldn't be sitting here getting verbally abused by you while kicking your ass at chess at the same time." The pawns, like infantry men, continued to move as both Tavington and I each sent them forward, only Tavington took my bishop and I took only air.

"You are not 'kicking my ass' as you say," he argued with a smirk, pulling the white bishop off with a little showiness. I glared and kicked myself for not noticing it was in danger. "And had he let you die, I wouldn't have all the problems that I'm having now! I think I would actually have control over myself, which seems to become lax whenever you're around."

"Problems?" I questioned with a laugh, my pawn following his queen as it moved up and down the same row, creating a stalemate for a bit. Why he just didn't take it is beyond me. "Those problems are your own doing, not mine or anyone else's. To blame them on me is only slightly egotistical." Leaning back against the chair again I mumbled, "And you say _I'm_ arrogant—"

"You are," Tavington interrupted with a growl, rising out of his chair with deliberate carefulness. "You're entirely too willful, hot-headed, with a mouth I have never encountered on any civilized woman—"

"Oh, a civilized woman?" I laughed coldly, Tavington having finally pushed the right buttons to increase my anger. Sliding the chair I was sitting in back angrily, I stood up as well, glaring at him heatedly from across the board. "Of course," I continued; my tone surprisingly steady and firm. "To you who have traveled the world, seen so many different places, met so many other people, I suppose it would seem as if my ways are uncivilized. Compared to your high-and-mighty English life style, roughing it in the backcountry is _unrefined_, and hell, I've been called a redneck a few times in my life." Bringing my hand up, I pointed my finger at him as women were wont to do when angry and trying to make a point.

"But you have your own personality traits that I sure as hell don't agree with, and you don't see me trying to put you in your place.

"So that brings up the question of what's this really about. I don't think it's about my stubbornness, nor my arrogance or even my 'uncivilized mouth' that's tweaking your anger." I could see that I had hit something, for Tavington was standing there breathing heavily like a bull facing off against the matador.

I continued on even further, unheeding to the present danger. "Is it the fact that I count Ben Martin as my father, and he's the reason I started fighting? Or is it because you had practically the Ghost's daughter and didn't even know about it? Hey, maybe it's—"

"Enough!" Tavington shouted, startling me into silence. Lowering his voice, he breathed out, "Enough. You know I am not a patient man, and you are wearing what little I have of it down."

I smirked saying, "I don't think I know that much about you actually," and then sat back down, leaning against the wooden back as if I were the Queen of Sheba.

Tavington rolled his eyes, taking several breaths to calm himself down he sat as well. I resumed the game by moving my own queen diagonally as he retreated his knight.

Tavington and I went through two moves apiece, I only taking his pawn, before I finally whispered, "Look, I can't change who I am, or who my family is . . . nor would I want to."

"I've think I've come to realize that," Tavington acquiesced. Catching my gaze with his, I let all the emotions I was feeling shine through my eyes instead of trying to hide it like I usually tried to do.

"Is it really so bad?" I asked, moving my knight again.

"What? Other than you have a remarkably close bond with the man I wish to destroy," he questioned, his Queen roaming further into my kingdom, taking one of my inactive pawns.

I shook my head, exasperated. Looking at the board, the pieces integrated and spread out everywhere, it looked like a regular hodge-podge. However, moving my bishop, practically all the way to the top, I set up my strategy.

"You have no reason to hate him," I tried to reason, waiting for Tavington to make his move. "But he has every reason to hate you,"

"So it would seem," said the king of nonchalantness. With a bold move, he moved his bishop next to my king, taking my rook.

"Do you even know how much you've taken from him?" _What you're going to take?_ I thought quietly with a mixture of fear and sadness. Scowling, I sent a pawn further north as his queen took the other rook, checking my king again.

"It's always about Ben Martin isn't it? In your eyes he's the saint, and I the villain." Quickly I moved my king out of the way.

"No," I shot out swiftly. "Not in my eyes." I reached across the table, my hand grasping that of Tavington's as I tried to take his attention off the game. "The world sees it different though. In this story you are the villain, but your actions in the future can change all that."

His fingers grasped mine gently. "How?"

I smiled at him. "Don't go after Charlotte and the children."

Tavington rolled his ice crystal eyes, extracting his hand and leaning back against the chair. "I see. You plead for them."

I too sat back, folding my hands delicately in my lap. "Of course I do. I love them."

"And do you care nothing for me?" he asked becoming exasperated. "Do you not understand the repercussions I face because I cannot deliver the Ghost to His Lordship?"

I was taken aback by the desperation in his eyes. His life really had become about chasing the Ghost down and pleasing a man who looked to as a father figure, only to have the man practically spit back into his face.

"How much must you take from me?" I asked quietly, my eyes lowering. "Don't you see . . . don't you know?"

"Know what?" he snapped.

Every ounce of nerve that I had ever possessed barely gave me the courage to lift my eyes. If I could read Tavington's, I knew he could read mine. "How much it kills me to give so much to you, and yet you never see it."

"What have you given to me?" I laughed quietly to myself in disbelief. He moved his knight downwards and I knew I had him.

"My freedom."

My white knight went into position, checking the opposing king and forcing him to the right one space.

"My family."

My queen went straight forward, stopping in front of a pawn, only to be taken by the black knight on his great stallion.

I paused briefly, my eyes catching his as I said, "My heart."

Shifting my bishop diagonally two spaces, his King was immobilized.

"Checkmate."

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**The chess game that was just played is called the Immortal game. It was played in 1851 by Adolf Anderssen and Lionel Kieseritzky and is one of the most famous chess games of all time. I suck at chess so I chose to use their game as the bases between Stephanie and Tavington. Review!**


	42. Chapter 42:The Virtues of Trust and Love

**Thanks for the reviews everyone! I really love hearing the feedback from all of you! **

**Now, unfortunately, this is the last chapter I'm post for at least a couple of weeks. I'm afriad life outside of is going to be becoming really hectic starting monday. Fisrt I'm going to the Jeresy Shore with my friends, then next Sat I'm moving to CO to go to college, and once there I have a million stuff to do. I'm going to be writing as much as I can when I can, but I don't know when I'm going to be able to post the next chapter. I'm sorry for the inconvience, and please bear with me.**

**And this story is alomst done! I'm seeing only like 8 more chapters, but I'm thinking on a sequel, if enough people will want one.**

**Chapter quote: **So what the hell was going on?

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**Chapter 41: The Virtues of Trust and Love**

604,800 seconds. 10,080 minutes. 168 hours. 7 days. One week. One week since the discovery of my past. One week since I had let out a secret I had, until then, kept locked in my heart.

Thankfully, after our little chat, Tavington didn't take me with him on the raid to Charlotte's plantation, although I did have a hunch that he was planning on it until I had let the bomb drop. I see it as a blessing that I hadn't gone. As much as I love being in the center of the action, and as far as wanting to see the children one last time, I was in no way wishing to see the Selton Mansion reduced to a pile of burning rubble after the Dragoons had had their search of the place. Nor did I want to give the children away as they made their escape from the burning wreckage to the Gullah village. Knowing me I would have mumbled something like "run! Be free," under my breath, thus getting the children royally screwed.

The night of the raid I got little sleep, worrying about my family and feeling myself torn between my love of the Martin's, my patriotism, and the joy I felt whenever Tavington was around. At least the joy I had felt. In truth, I had no idea what the reaction to my little outburst was—for you see I took the coward's way out . . . again. Instead of standing there, waiting for a reaction, I turned and ran out of Tavington's tent, flinging myself into my own and refusing to come out the rest of that night and most of the next day. It was unsurprising that I found Caroline huffing and puffing outside that of my little sanctuary, but apparently I had more stubbornness than her, for she left a while later.

The whole day I sat there thinking and came to the conclusion that I was being stupid. There was a time to run and a time to fight. This was time to fight so I plucked up my courage, bat down the embarrassment I felt at revealing a vulnerable weakness and left the tent. I took a deep breath (for as you can imagine it was rather stuffy in that tent) and did the only other thing I could think of. I threw myself into work, and there sure was enough of it to go around an army camp. There was food to be cooked, laundry to be mended, and dishes to be cleaned. I helped to gather firewood, and brought back water from the river. I helped dress wounds (although thankfully nothing too ghastly) and I even started a little daycare.

All the younger children who were more of a hindrance to their parents than a help, I gathered up and took to a shady spot where I played my guitar, sang for them, and told all the fairy tale stories I could remember. I retrieved my sketch pad and brought Lily who was spoiled by all the attention the children gave her.

I don't know whether I was praising God or cursing him, because during that week I barely saw Tavington, if I was even that lucky. He and the Dragoons rode out before sunrise and hardly returned before the lightening bugs were making their rounds. Once he did returned, Tavington would retire to his tent and not come out the rest of the night; only a few times having meeting with his senior officers.

Somewhere deep in the girly, romantic countenance of my heart I wished Tavington had come after me, kissed me senseless while saying that he loved me with everything he possessed and then we could live happily ever after. I mean I _was_ in a story for Christ's sakes! Didn't that mean happily ever after could happen?

Lying awake at night with Lily curled next to my side, I wondered if Tavington was thinking about me as much as I was thinking of him. If he did, was it with disgust or longing? Did he miss our verbal fencing battles? I know I did. If there was one thing I learned from him, is that Tavington has certainly increased my speed and creativity in giving a retort. My smartassiness has increased tenfold thanks to him.

I wanted Tavington more than I had ever wanted anything else in my life; even more than I wanted Kevin. I wanted to be loved again. I wanted _to_ love again. There something about being in love, and knowing the other person cares about you too, that makes one feel invincible. As if you could battle a thousand foes, sail a vast ship during a hurricane, or fly through the air. Love is probably the most potent drug out there.

But to be able to cross that barrier I would have to face him again. I would have to be able to look him in the eye and not fear rejection. I would have to _trust_ that he wouldn't break my heart, but to trust again is something that I wasn't sure I was able to do. I had always seen trust as the easiest thing one could lose, and the hardest thing to gain back. That led me to think if I trusted Colonel William Tavington with my heart. Did I trust him to be honest with me? Did I trust him to make the right decision? Did I trust myself to not run away? Strangely enough, the answer to those questions weren't as hard to come up with as I thought.

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"You need to stop moping around, Stephanie Hawkins, before you're given a real reason to sulk!" 

My attention, so focused before, was inadvertently drawn up from the shirt I was painstakingly mending to the glowering form of Caroline standing above me. Her hands were on her hips and the scowl she wore would have made Sauron, Lord of Mordor, cower at her feet.

"I'm not moping. I'm thinking, there's a difference," I affirmed, focusing back on the needle and tread in my hands so as not to poke myself like I had done a thousand times before. It was no use, sadly. Tips of needles seem to be magnetically drawn to my fingers. "Ow! Bloody melon farmer," I grumbled under my breath, sticking the now bleeding finger into my mouth.

"You are too moping," she maintained with a glare the size of Texas. "Ever since your talk with the Colonel by the river, you look as if you lost your best friend."

I sighed heavily, my heart ton of bricks in my chest. "In a way I did, Caroline. And I don't know how I'm ever going to get him back," I ended softly, setting the shirt aside.

All at once her demeanor changed. Caroline's arms dropped from where they were resting on her hips, and a sympathetic look entered into her eyes. She kneeled down next to me, placing a hand on my shoulder and said, "Whatever happened?"

I sniffed, the heat of the day making me sweat and thus making my nose run. I turned my head to look at her and tried to smile. "Tav . . . er. . . Colonel Tavington learned an important aspect of my past and I don't think it sat well with him."

"Are you talking about you being kin with the Ghost?" Caroline asked.

I stared at her dumbfounded. "How did you—"

"Know?" she interrupted with a smile. "Easily. This is an army camp, Stephanie. Gossip spreads through here faster than a fire in a hay barn."

"And you're not . . . angry with me, for not telling you?" I questioned hesitantly. Caroline laughed, her white teeth showing as she stood up, using my shoulder as leverage.

"Whatever would I be mad for?" she asked. "This is a man's war that's being fought. It's not for me to base my opinions on which side of the war you're fighting on, although many would wish to contradict me. Honestly, you could have been the daughter of Patrick Henry and I would have cared naught. Is that what had you so sad for?"

I shrugged, slightly embarrassed. "Partly. You're taking it far better than some other people I know."

"We have never said men are particularly smart, especially when it comes to women. Have you tried talking to the colonel?"

I wanted to laugh, but only a feeble chuckle left my lips. "Not since he found out and I told him that that is who I am and nothing is going to change it, no matter what he said or did. And that I was proud of who I was."

"Oh heaven help us," Caroline cursed. "Is there ever a time when you're not stubborn and independent. No don't answer that," she barked as she held her hand up as I began to open my mouth. "What else did you tell him?"

I sighed, draping my skirts over my knees as I drew them up and onto the chair I was sitting in. "That I had given him my heart and he didn't seem to notice or care."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Oh lord! You really don't ever want to be happy, do you?" she snapped. I dropped my eyes, feeling more ashamed than angry. She was right. Why did I keep fighting? Why did I keep egging him on when in reality I just wanted to have a conversation with no kind of hidden agenda? No arguments or insults, just talking.

I heard her sigh in frustration. "Well, you managed to get yourself into a fix, you did. Well come on, I have just the thing to cheer you up."

Caroline led me through the avenues of tents to a rather large one on the edge of camp. It was the tent that housed her family, and unlike some other soldiers, it was rather large, although not as big as the Colonel's. It was of course the same, sturdy, yellow canvas, but inside it partitioned off into several different rooms. The first, main room was the living area. There was a table and several chairs, along with a few trunks, but that was it. The other two rooms were the bedrooms; one for the Lieutenant, his wife and Elizabeth, and the other was for Jimmy, Maggie, and Caroline. I had asked her in the past what it was like to share a room with her siblings, but Caroline just shrugged as said, 'it is what it is.' If only I had her carefree nature.

Once we entered the little camping area around her home, Caroline disappeared into the tent and into her room, rummaging through a trunk by the sounds of it. I stood there awkwardly under Mrs. McKay's hard stare. She was by no means glaring at me, but I could tell she was not fond of me being there.

She stood there, her sleeves rolled up past her elbows as she worked the piece of clothing she was washing; vigorously scrubbing it up and down on a washer board. Mrs. McKay looked remarkable like Caroline, or as I should say, Caroline looked remarkably like her mother. Hair that was such a dark brown shade it was almost black with pale Irish skin and Scottish green eyes. Mrs. McKay was also a petite woman, standing at least two inches shorter than my five foot five frame. I was by no means tall, but I felt like a giant compared to this woman.

Within minutes I heard a triumphant shout from inside the tent and Caroline came tearing out of there quicker than Dixie, a bundle wadded up under her arm.

"I found it!" she shouted, grabbing my arm and practically running back through camp towards my tent.

"Caroline!" I protested, struggling against her, digging my heels into the ground. She just yanked me forward, throwing me off balance and allowing her to pick up speed. "What the hell has gotten into you, woman?! Let me go."

We stopped once we came to the entrance of my tent, both of us panting slightly and feeling very sweaty. The air felt thicker than a wet blanket thrown over your mouth and nose.

"Grab your bathing things and come with me," Caroline ordered as she pointed into my tent.

"Not until you tell me what's going through that head of yours," I snapped back as I tried to catch my breath. _Wow, where had I heard THAT before,_ I thought cynically.

"Just do as I say. I promise you'll enjoy it," she said with a smile. I rolled my eyes, muttering sadistically under my breath and did as ordered. Coming outside again, Caroline proceeded to drag me over to the river, making sure we were away from the camp and among some heavy vegetation.

"Jeeze, if I needed a bath, you could have just told me," I commented, dipping my toe into the river. Caroline rolled her eyes and ordered me to just get on with it. "Well stand guard or something," I reasoned, working the ties of my skirt. "Last thing I need is for a soldier to come walking around the bend and getting an eye full."

Caroline blushed and hurried around the bush while I striped as far as I could. No way in hell was I going in that river in my birthday suit. With my luck, my clothes would fall into the river and wash away.

I felt bad about washing out chemical products, a.k.a. shampoo and conditioner, into the river but I could not go another day without feeling like a greasy slime ball. Technically I jumped into the river every other day, if not to just rinse off and get cool, but I did need to scrub my hair. Unless Caroline was really good at noticing those things, I had no idea why she was practically throwing me in the river to bathe. Did I really smell that rank?

Debating various reasons in my head, I dried off when I was done and although my OCD nature really hated putting my dirty clothes back on, I did so, and then had Caroline dragging me back to my tent. Man, couldn't she just tell me where we were going and let me walk there myself?

"Ok, can you _please_ tell me what the hell is going on?!" I snapped after being pushed into my tent and my last thread of patience leaving me. Caroline followed in after me and smiled; a very evil smile if I ever saw one. She really was enjoying ordering me around.

"I want you to look good for your surprise tonight," she said.

"My surprise? What surprise is that?" I asked as I watched her unravel the bundle. It turned out to be a gown, and a gorgeous gown at that. It was sage green brocade trimmed with stunning gold satin and embroidered with pink roses. The neck was an arch that would end just above the shoulders and the sleeves came down to the elbows where more gold fabric was left to hand in a V shape. The main body of the skirt could flare out and underneath I noticed more of the gold satin equipped with even more embroidered roses. "Caroline, where did you get that dress? It must have cost a fortune!"

This time, when she smiled, it was more genuine. "I made this dress, with my mother's help of course."

"Yes, but that fabric is really expensive. I'm not saying your poor, but—"

"It's alright," she soothed. "My father was a wealthy merchant before the war. My family and I have always been well off, even if we aren't of noble blood, but that's beside the point. The men brought this fabric, and some other plunder they found when they went on a raid months ago. I saw it, and thought it would look wonderful on you."

My eyes went wide as I drew them off of the dress and onto her face. "For me? I couldn't possibly accept this dress."

Her smile widened. "Of course you can. It is for you, and don't you say that I can't afford it. It may not have jewels or anything of that nature on it, but I have several dresses like this, so you need not worry. And you don't have a good dress."

Subconsciously my hands reached out to caress the fabric. Hey, I may have been a tomboy most of my life, but that didn't mean that when I saw I beautiful dress, I couldn't admire it. "But I have a good dress—"

"You mean that blue one?" she asked with a laugh. "That dress has become tattered and I doubt it was even made for you. The bodice is much too large and the skirt is far too short. This dress should fit you nicely." She held it out to me and I took it in my arms, still admiring it.

"But Caroline—"

"No buts," she interrupted sternly. "Now let's put this dress on you and see how it looks. Since you and I are so similar in size I based it off of my frame, there for it should fit."

Even though I had been in the 18th century for four years and had worn the fashions designed for the time period, I never knew how much really did go into dressing for I had chosen to wear half of the items being thrust at me by Caroline. Compared to my time period, the dress alone was of modest value, let alone the shift, petticoats, stays, sleeves and other attributes of the clothing. By the time the underclothes were on I felt as if I could walk around in public and be fine. These people had way too many clothes.

By the time the dress was wrangled over my frame, the shift and stays adjusted (I absolutely refused to wear hoops. My hips were big enough as it were without the added padding), I felt as if a berka would have been more revealing and a lot less hot. I was fanning myself violently while Caroline, never losing her stride, set to work brushing out my hair and arranging it for my "surprise." I really wanted to know what she had going on. What kind of surprise would involve me getting dressed up like some doll? My birthday was months ago, there was no anniversary I could think of, besides the one of my literally falling into the 18th century and I doubt anyone would know about that. So what the hell was going on?

A half hour of sitting there, having my hair pulled, tucked, brushed and braided, Caroline was finally done. She took my unruly, curly hair and had actually made it where the curls were soft and defined, spiraling it up into a French twist and pinning it, allowing the curls to fall to one side.

Shooing Caroline out of my tent, I decided to go along with whatever scheme she had planned, applying a bit of make-up and taking a look at myself in the mirror, I hardly recognized the girl staring back at me. The image in my head was a scruffy girl trying to be a boy. Instead I saw an elegant woman with my facial structure. My eyes were sparkling, my skin was flawless (thank you covergirl!) and my eyes were highlighted with black liner, making them stand out. My hair was glossy and soft and the dress really brought out the golden color of my skin. (I had been tanning when no one was looking down by the river.) All I could think of was . . . wow.

Caroline spoke it aloud when I walked out of the tent, the sun setting and turning the sky into a palate of colors. She smiled, a wicked twinkle in her eye and took my hand, leading—instead of dragging— out of the camp boards towards the field of the horses. I became even more confused when we stopped and she placed a blindfold over my eyes before we reached the lone tree that I always hung out it when visiting with Lainathiel.

"You do know I'm going to trip and face-plant by doing this, right?" I said when I was completely blinded.

She didn't answer, but took my hand and made me continue to walk, relying solely on her guidance. When I sure that the next step I was going to take would trip me we stopped and Caroline removed the blindfold quickly, my eyes temporarily blinded by the candles surrounding the tree. When my eyes adjusted to the light, I observed the area around me. Soft candles illuminated the large oak tree, its branches swaying in the soft breeze. Two chairs stood opposite each other with a large table and a white tablecloth set up beneath the swaying branches. There were more candles on the table, along with china and silver pots almost like a fancy dinner a lord or something would have.

"Caroline, where did all this stuff come from? Did you do this?" I asked in disbelief.

She shook her head as her smiled broadening by the second. "Me?" she laughed. "No, I was merely ordered to get you ready. This was all planned by someone else."

"Who?"

"Me," a voiced called from the shadows. Like some kind of vampire, Tavington materialized into the light wearing his dress uniform and looking so remarkably handsome, I forgot to breathe for a moment. I just stared at him as he walked forward, a sexy smirk on his face while my heart continued to beat wildly as if trying to hammer my lungs to start inhaling again.

Tavington stopped when he was standing directly in front of me, his eyes locked with mine as if nothing else in the world mattered. In the back reaches of my consciousness I heard Caroline say, "I'll leave you two alone," as she started back towards the camp, but most of my attention was on the man in front of me.

"What's this all about?" I asked, gesturing to the table and candles, yet not looking at them.

"Nothing else seems to ever have an effect on you," he said huskily. "So I thought I would try a new tactic. Is it working?"

_Hell yes it's working,_ my mind screamed. Instead I asked, "Why are you doing this? I thought after everything that happened that you would—"

"I would what?" he questioned interrupting me. "Hate you? Deem that my heart belongs to someone else so I can walk away?" When I remained silent, something seemed to snap in him. His hands came up and grabbed the sides of my face as if willing my stubborn mind to take in everything he was saying. "Do you not understand, Stephanie? I can't walk away. I can't give my heart to someone else because it has belonged to you for the longest time. I don't _want_ to walk away and I was under the impression that you don't want to either."

Everything inside of me soared at the words that came out of his mouth. "Nothing would kill me more than to walk away, Colonel."

"William," he said, dropping his hands and holding his arm out for me to take. "You asked for me to call you by your given name. I now ask the same of you."

I smiled, fulfilling both his spoken and unspoken requests. "William." He walked me over to the table, pulled out a chair for me to sit and then took his own place opposite me. "How did you do all this?" I asked my eyes wide with wonder as I took in the cheesy romantic scene.

"I'm not Colonel for nothing, my dear," he smirked, taking a sip of the wine.

I laughed, feeling my cheeks grow warm as his stare became one laced with desire. With my eyes on my plate, I mumbled, "Well it's beautiful. Thank you."

"Don't thank me just yet," he responded. That made me look at him in confusion, but he merely smiled and began to eat, I taking after his lead. The dinner, although nothing fancy food wise considering we were in an army camp, was delightful. William and I shared stories of our past between one another, laughed at our embarrassing moments, joked about our families. All at once I could see us like this in the future, without the war separating us. I warmed at the thought and I knew what I wanted after the war was over; the dream in my head was clearer than it had ever been before.

"Where did you live before you came to South Carolina?" William asked after the meal. He sat back lazily in the chair, the wine glass cupped in his hand.

I smiled, but thought of how to answer his question. "Well I was born on the frontier, but when I was young my parents moved my family to Connecticut." _I suppose Colorado could count as the frontier,_ I thought.

"Connecticut?" he questioned shocked. "How did you come to live down here?"

I held my own wineglass in my hand, swirling the contents around as I thought. _Well,_ _might as well tell the truth._ "Honestly, I don't know," I explained. "I came here when my family was lost. It's difficult to explain. It's like I remember my family; I remember events with them, but between them disappearing and finding myself in South Carolina, there's a rather large gap." Maybe that wasn't the entire truth, but I would have to explain about being from the future and I wasn't ready for that yet.

Tavington sat quietly for a few moments. "Nothing at all?"

I glanced upward to his astonished face and shook my head. "Nothing."

His gaze bordered on sympathetic and I knew it was time to change the subject. Standing up, I placed my glass on the table walked over to him and took his hand pulling him away from the table. He had stood up when I had, since that was considered polite back then, and gave me a confused look as he also sat down the glass.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Smirking, I took his left hand and put it on my waist. "Dance with me," I said.

"There's no music," he responded, but that didn't stop him from pulling me closer, and taking my other hand.

"Of course there is. You're just not listening to it hard enough."

"And what am I suppose to be listening for?" He and I stared a slow waltz through the grasses, keeping to the light of the candles and the light of the moon.

"This is incredibly corny, but the wind in the trees; the sounds of the river; the songs of the birds. My brother Tommy always used to say that the sweetest music ever found was the notes nature produced."

"You believe that?" _Could he sound anymore skeptical?_

"Of course I do. If we can't believe in the clichéd things, what's there to believe in?"

He smirked, an eyebrow raised. "What indeed."

We continued to dance; the same feeling of flying that I had felt the first time we held each other at the Middleton ball swarmed my senses. The wine in my system heated my blood and the close proximity of Tavington had more than enough potency to make me feel lightheaded.

Our eyes were locked and nothing else in the world existed. I stepped closer to him, wanting to feel his body pressed against mine. Unconventional, but I really didn't care. The walls of my resistance were slowly crumbling, and the minute Tavington's lips tasted mine they blew up in a spectacular display, leaving the road clear and operational.

I deepened the kiss; my arms winding around his neck while his wrapped around my back. Who needed air when I could live off of the man connected to me?

Subconsciously making my decision, I unwound my hands from his neck, slowing sliding my fingers downward over his chest. He groaned and the hunger in our kisses skyrocketed, leaving me further breathless and almost wiping my mind of all thought. I soon found him kissing along my neck, every atom in my body tingling in sensations that were as new to me as this burning passion in my heart.

My hands stopped just above the line of his pants and slowly they began their ascent upwards. Even with the clothing between us, I could feel the heat and taunt muscles of his chest twitching beneath my finger tips. I slid my hands under the lapels of his jacket and once I reached his shoulders, I slowly guided it off his body. He stopped his progression along the sides of my neck, looking me in the eyes as the clothing hit the grasses at our feet.

"Do you know what you're doing?" he asked huskily, the desire in his eyes like fireworks on the fourth of July.

"More than ever before," I whispered, kissing him again and guiding his hands around me. Even though the night was cool, the heat around us was hotter than the sun. No longer were we sweet and gentle. Desperation clawed at us as I worked the buttons on his vest and he the ties of my gown.

"I really hate clothing right now," I spat when we broke away, unable to kiss and undress at the same time. Tavington chuckled, a deep sound that vibrated between us.

"I share your loathing," he said, dropping his arms to allow his vest to joining his jacket. Again our lips met as my hand traveled south again to pull his shirt out of the breeches while he finally got my bodice untied and sent it to ground along with the overskirt.

Through the foggy haze of desire, practicality set in. Breaking away from his lips, I grabbed his hands as the roamed over my body, thus gaining his attention. "I'd hate to kill the moment, but grass to me doesn't sound that comfortable," I whispered.

It took a moment for my words to set in but once they did, Tavington smiled and led me away from the candles and further into the field where a blanket was set up.

"I had hoped to show you the stars," he said in between kissing me. "But I find this far more appealing."

"I agree. Of course it's a full moon, so we wouldn't be able to see much anyway," I mumbled, my hands roaming under his shirt, feeling his skin even hotter than before.

He groaned even louder, saying "Is there anything you don't know?" as he desperately worked the ties of the corset that hid my body from him. Once he had them undone, he practically ripped it from my body as I untied my petticoat and let it fall to my feet. His shirt was yanked over his head as he pulled me to him again, our skin only separated by the flimsy chemise I wore.

"Not really no," I chuckled, growing bold and rubbing my hands along the line of his pants and a little further south, enticing him on further. Bending down, Tavington scooping my up in his arms and gently laid me down on the blanket, his lips never leaving mine has his hand slid up the side of my body to cup a breast. It was my turn to groan as white-hot desire flared in my belly. He rubbed me through the linen, pinching and tweaking as he battled against my lips, our tongues swirling together.

My hands wound around his head, untying his queue and releasing his hair from its confinement. My fingers combed through his dark locks as he released my own hair from the pins.

His hands, ever roaming, slid further down my body, grabbing the cloth I wore and pulling it up along my frame and over my head, leaving me completely bare under the moonlight. Heat built in my cheeks, but the passion and gentleness in his eyes was more calming than anything. "You really are beautiful, Stephanie. And you're all mine."

Soon he was divulged of his clothing and we came together as men and women throughout time had done before us. I gave him everything and he took it all just as he gave me everything he had. We soared together over peak after delicious peak, and nothing in the world could make me forget how much I loved that man.

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**—Grins Evilly— **

**Review?**


	43. Chapter 43: Decisions

**Hey everyone, I'm back! Well kinda. I wanted to wait until I have the whole story done before I posted again, but I have no idea when that's going to happen. I'm now offically a college student (weird to think about) and I'm not yet use to the course work, so from here on out, or at least until I can get a good grip on time, updates are going to be sporadic. I'm sorry if I'm inconviencing anyone, but life comes before fanfiction. Thank you all for your wonderful reviews and I will work as diligently as possible.**

**Chapter quote: **I suppose it was slightly ironic to say that William Tavington was most likely the best thing to ever happen to me.

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**Chapter 42: Decisions**

We made love desperately beneath a canopy of stars and moonlight. Once we found our pleasure we made love slowly, savoring one another's body. Never before had I found gratification in another person. His pleasure was my own. My first time with Kevin was him gaining everything and me nothing but pain and humility. Tavington, however, made sure that I was getting as much satisfaction from him as he was from me. In my heart, Tavington was my first.

We dressed quickly afterwards, packed up the clothes we weren't wearing (mostly me because there were way too many layers to put back on), blew out the candles and headed back to camp. Once there, he and I retired to his tent where we again found lost in each other.

The camp was still and silent. I laid on the colonel's cot, curled up next to his side with my head on his shoulder and his arm draped around my back, his hand on the curve of my hip. My arm was resting on his chest while my fingers lazily drew little circles across his skin, feeling the muscles, hair and scars that littered his torso. If I had been a cat, I would have been purring.

"What do you plan to do after the war?" I softly asked, reveling in the feel of his naked skin against mine.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his eyes closed, holding on to the pleasure we felt moments before.

"When this war is over, what are you going to do with yourself," I elaborated, rising my head a little to look at his face. "You're not going to stay in the army forever, are you?"

Tavington cracked an eye open, a slit of blue shinning between lids. "I was never planning on it. I thought about buying some land, perhaps raising some crops on it."

I sat up a little more, pulling the sheet that was draped across us up to cover my breasts. "You want to be a farmer?" I couldn't keep the incredulousness from my voice.

He opened his eyes fully when he felt me shift. "I plan on owning a farm, yes, but I would hire people to work for me."

"So you want to be more of a plantation owner?"

"Similar in fashion. Why? Does that bother you?"

I smiled and laid my head on his chest, feeling the movements as he breathed. His hand reached up to stroke my hair, his fingers delving in-between the tresses and making goosebumps appear across my skin. "No, I just can't picture you a farmer, that's all," I answered.

"Why is that?" He continued to comb my hair with his fingers, and them moving his hand down to caress my back, feeling the goosebumps rise on my skin.

I sat up again, smiling as I took in the man lying below me. How did I get that lucky? I leaned over him to plant a small kiss on his lips. "Because I never would have thought the great Colonel of the Green Dragoons, the King's elite Calvary, would want to be a humble farmer," I whispered.

"Well, I tend to surprise people." He rose up and kissed me again, more passionately than before.

Before we could get into it again, I broke the kiss, pushing him away with the palm of my hand as my smile grew. "Colonel Tavington. Now is not the time to be whipping out the whole tamale." He smirked and pushed my head back down to lie on his shoulder.

"What do you think I should do?" William asked after a few moments of silence.

Lying there, I thought about all the possibilities. "Well, I suppose you could become a horse breeder. The whole Calvary thing works for you," I voiced.

"A horse breeder?"

"Yea," I replied. "My great-grandfather raised and bred horses all his life. Made a killing at it, too."

"A killing? So violence is prevalent in your family?" His smirk was back on his face and I had to restrain myself from smacking it off. Well, that or kissing him senselessly. The latter held potential.

"I mean he made a lot of money doing it," I snapped back, glaring at the man underneath me. He chuckled and grabbed me, pulling me onto his chest.

Rolling my eyes, I smiled and reached between our bodies, finding the treasure I was searching for. His eyes widened as he moaned and I impaled myself again onto him, setting a rhythm both demanding and fulfilling. From what I've heard told of men, Colonel Tavington sure had a hell of a lot of stamina.

With a groan, we both found release and I collapsed next to him, laying my head back on his shoulder. Soon my body was beginning to relax, even though the cot could barely fit the both of us, when a sudden thought sprung in my head. "William?" I murmured.

"Mmm?" came his throaty reply.

I bit my lip and said hesitantly, "This . . . farmer's life of yours, is it a bachelor's life you dream of as well?"

I could feel him stiffen under my fingers, and I wondered if maybe it was too early to be bringing the future into the lime-light. "You don't have to answer," I supplied hurriedly. "It's private, and I shouldn't indulge. I'm sorry—"

"No," Tavington interrupted roughly, startling me into silence. "You have no reason to apologize. It's a perfectly logical question."

I blinked at him confusedly, cocking my head to the side and not understanding that just happened. With a large grunt, Tavington disentangled himself from me and sat up. Rubbing a hand down his face before standing up fully, granting me a perfect view of his . . . um . . . _ass_ets. I blushed, giggled, and adverted my gaze all the while thinking . . . _yummy!_

Tavington snorted at my girlish modesty and shuffled his way across his tent to his desk. At the sounds of the rummaging and slight cursing, I brought my eyes up, smirking at the dark silhouette outlined against the moonlit canvas. The rummaging continued on for several minutes, allowing my mind to wander as I sat there on the cot.

What did I want in the future? I could picture very clearly a life with the Colonel, as if opening myself up to him finally broke the chains holding me down. In fact . . . a life without William held an almost frightening prospect. If I were to lose him, I wasn't sure what I'd be able to do. I suppose it was slightly ironic to say that William Tavington was most likely the best thing to ever happen to me.

The question now was . . . how to tell him. No matter what I had learned over the weeks, and the wonderful experiences we shared (the very idea brought a blush and _very_ warm feeling to me), William didn't strike me as the sentimental type. I didn't even know if he shared the same dream as I. He said I had his heart, but having his heart and planning a future together are two very different things. In the society of the 18th century, many people wed for purposes that had nothing to do with love. In fact, marrying for love was almost unheard of. I'm not saying it never happened, and that some marriages didn't bring love, but the ratio between the two held a striking contrast.

And Tavington may not even want to marry. The life of a bachelor could be too sweet to pass up. If that be the case, would Tavington have the nerve to ask me to be his mistress . . . his paramour . . . his courtesan? I had willingly given him my body, but just below the surface of my glowing visage I was terrified that my mistake of the past would be repeated again, and I wasn't sure I could bear to handle it a second time.

My frightened thinking was interrupted when William returned to bed, a little box clutched in his hand. My heart leaped when I saw it and I could feel my mouth run dry. _He isn't going to—?_

"Stephanie," he began, taking my hand. With wide eyes I stared at the dark profile outlined by silver moonlight. "I know that I don't have much to offer to you, and I won't until this war is decided."

"If you're worried about money, you shouldn't be," I said. "I care nothing for it. I'd rather be poor and happy than rich and unhappy."

He smiled and squeezed my hand. "And that's what is so endearing about you. But I cannot possible offer you the idea of marriage until my feet are more firmly beneath me."

This time when my heart clenched, it was with fear instead happiness. "What are you saying?" I was ashamed at myself for allowing that fear to shine threw my voice.

"I can't offer you an engagement. I feel it would be wrong of me to do so. However." At this he took his hands from mine and opened the little box, revealing a tiny ring with one large, circle-cut emerald surrounded by several diamonds arranged in a starburst. "I can offer you something like a promise—"

"So you're giving me a promise ring," I interrupted, happy that he wasn't a.) breaking up with me or b.) wanting only my body.

Tavington paused and spoke bewilderedly, "I'm not familiar with that term."

"It's a . . . custom where I'm from. Sometimes men give the girl their da-courting rings to promise them their undying love or some other such nonsense. It's kind of like an engagement to an engagement."

"Then yes, it's a promise ring. I promise that in the future I will have you."

I couldn't help the line of "_If it weren't for these bars I'd have you already"_ flashing across my brain. I smiled at the memory and at the joy exploding inside me like nuclear bombs. He slid the ring onto my right ring finger (of course it was a little big because I have long skinny, piano fingers) but I didn't care. Once that ring was on I grabbed his face and planted a kiss right on his lips. I could feel him smile and pull me closer; rolling us until he rose above me and showed exactly how much he really did care.

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Over the next few weeks, I found myself happier and feeling more alive than I ever had in my whole life. There was this sense of invulnerability I possessed that could not be countered by anything. Love, it seemed, had finally decided to grant me some of its magic. All I had to do was glanced down at the ring on my right hand and wings would sprout from my shoulders. The world was good.

There were of course a few bumps that had to be met along the road. The day after Tavington and I had . . . consummated our relationship, I found him surprisingly cold and distant towards me whenever we were out of his tent and among the general populace. At first I was hurt and confused, but when he requested my presence that night, I confronted him about the whole cold shoulder arrangement.

"I apologize for it, my dear," he told me, taking my sulking form into his arms. "But if anyone were to suspect the relationship we have with one another, problems of a vast nature could arise. I'm merely thinking of your well-being."

I was placated and we found ourselves again in a very happy position.

The new turn in my life also gave me the chance to look back at all that I had experienced. I did feel a sense of homesickness and I desperately needed to see Ben and Gabriel again. I missed them as much as I missed my own family and there was rarely a day when I didn't think of them. I never told Tavington why at times I was so melancholy; I didn't feel it was in his best interest to know. I just took each day and each delicious night at a time, using those pleasing memories to counteract the unhappy ones.

However, nothing could erase the growing dread I felt as the days wore on the air began to cool. I knew that the time was coming closer when I would have to make a decision that would ultimately affect not only my life, but the lives of many others.

Growing up in the 21st century, I had already heard of all the disastrous consequences that arise when one messes with time. You didn't need to be a Trekky to figure it out. The question was how much of an effect would I have on the story if I did stop the event from occurring. It seemed as if I was granted the pleasure of answering the age-old philosophical question that just because I know what's going to happen, does it mean I should change it?

I know that I couldn't ask Tavington for help, nor could Caroline give me any views on it. If only I had Ben or Gabriel to help me. Their guidance always got me through tough situations.

Instead I was completely on my own, and that was far more terrifying than I ever thought it would be. Soon I was even making myself sick in the morning; the clenching of my stomach not allowing me to keep anything down. I once more withheld what I was going through from Tavington; for questions would be asked that I would be unable to answer. I prayed for help, and although I was enjoying the turn in my life, I didn't know how long it would last. It seemed only time would tell when I would have to make decisions that would change the course of my life forever.


	44. Chapter 44: Reality

**Well here's the newest chapter. I am working as hard as I can to get the rest of this story done. I know how much you guys love it and that really gives me a confident boost. I really hope this chapter answers some question that people may have and please, as always, review. I really like hearing what you guys have to say and I do take it into consideration.**

**Chapter quote: **Screams pierced the air again. Screams signifying agonizing pain and humility. Screams of terror, despair, and anger. Screams that my heart was making, listening to all that was coming from the house.

* * *

**Chapter 43: Reality**

Time rolled on in a continuous stream. Soon the calendar was changed into the month of September; the first traces of fall could be felt in the morning and evening air. A cooler, dryer wind was beginning to blow in from the north and I found my long skirts no longer torture devices but relief from the coolness.

I had spent the last few weeks primarily in the camp working with Caroline and the other ladies or in the presence of Tavington. Feeling a bit cooped up, I had decided that Lainathiel and I need some exercise. It had been such a long time since I had even given any attention to my horse that I figured she was overdue for a good long ride.

Months before, my guard, the sour O'Harley, had been taken away so now I was practically free to do as I liked. I suppose I could have escaped again, but I had come to the point where I didn't want to leave. The Dragoon camp wasn't necessarily my home, but it was becoming a place I was comfortable to be.

The day I had chosen for the ride was sunny and warm, a perfect fall day. The Dragoons had gone out on some mission or another; I hadn't quite caught what Tavington was telling me when he was dressing for the day. I was still half asleep on his cot and in La La land so I didn't really care.

Lainathiel was saddled (which I noticed was a bit tight. It seemed my mare had gained a bit of weight) and with all my work done in the camp, I leap into the saddle and headed for the woods bordering the camp.

The feel of the horse beneath me was the most relaxing thing I had come across. My stomach seemed to have settled—I had yet to be sick that morning, thank the lord. I hated that I was worrying myself into such a state, but I couldn't help the fact that I knew more than anyone else.

I didn't push my horse as we meandered down leaf strewn paths littered with traces of sunlight. The scent of the forest was heavenly and I could hear the soft trickle of a brook somewhere in the distance. Squirrels scampered up trees when my horse and I came into view while birds sang their sweet songs. It seemed as if I had walked into my own little paradise.

Until a scream tore through the air, making the birds take flight into the sky and the squirrels to scamper for cover. Lainathiel shied a bit, stamping her feet in agitation and puffing out of her nose; her ears flattened against her head.

"Woah girl," I cooed, running my hand along her chestnut neck, trying to sooth her as I gazed around the now silent forest. "Let's go see what that was."

Digging my heels lightly into her sides, I sent her off the path and towards the direction the sound had come from. She fought me at first, but then gave in; her warhorse upbringing coming back to her.

We cantered into a clearing, the sun too bright to allow me to see at first. When my eyes sight cleared, I noticed a shabby farmhouse surrounded by Green Dragoons. Wild corn littered the fields surrounding the house along with wildflowers of every shape and color. It was absolutely beautiful, but another scream of absolute agony from the farmhouse quickly diverted my attention. Two men materialized out of the cornstalk and entered the building; one was Tavington—I knew his walk anywhere— and the other was Wilkins, easily noticeable by his height.

Confused and a little apprehensive, I dismounted from my horse and led her over to the single level building with its peeling paint and broken windows. Many of the Dragoons that saw my approach were shocked to see me outside of camp.

"Miss Hawkins," a lieutenant (I couldn't remember his name) said, stepping up to block my path. "It seems you have lost your way. Perhaps I can direct you back to camp."

I knew that he was trying to prevent me from entering the house, his shaky smile and the lie behind his eyes was proof enough for it.

"I know exactly where I'm at and how to get back to camp, sir. You your help is unneeded," I replied almost snappishly, brushing past the wiry man and heading for the front door with purposeful strides. My curiosity had been peaked and I wanted to know what was happening, especially since it involved the man I was with.

The lieutenant tried to stop me, but when I was set in my decision, there was no turning back. He grabbed as my arm but I brushed him off, stomping up the steps and into the house. I paused for a moment until I heard a thump and a shout come from the back of the house. There were several more Dragoons loitering about, and I think the only reason I was able to get passed them was because I surprised them with my sudden appearance.

I reached the back room, startling the hell out of Wilkins who was standing guard. Looking around the room, I saw Tavington walk up to a man being restrained by more Dragoons saying, "I wonder how patriotic you'd be if I offered you the chance to walk out of here alive, and to triple all of this." He held up a gold coin in the man's face. I couldn't see the man; Tavington's back was blocking my view, which gave me leave to notice the dead man lying of the floor, blood covering practically his whole body.

I gasped quietly, more from shock than anything else, which seemed to have awakened Wilkins from whatever shocked stupor he was in. He stepped up and grabbed my elbow in a surprisingly firm grip, whispering in my ear, "Miss Hawkins this is no place for you. You need to leave, now."

However, my gasp seemed to have alerted the other men in the room to my presence. Bordon was staring at me in bewilderment, Tavington looked as if he was fuming which was never a good sign and the man's visage, which I could clearly see now, was laced with incredulousness.

"Hawkins?!" the man spat. Taking in his appearance I gaped at the man, not believing that I was seeing Rollins again after so many months. Time hadn't been kind to him. His face was hollowed, his eyes sunken, his sickly pallor did nothing for the appearance and I was surprised there was no tobacco being chewed in his mouth.

"Rollins?" my voice was a pitched a bit high, making me frown a little.

He looked me up and down, sneering at my well-kept appearance. "We thought you were dead."

"Why did you think that?"

"The negro slave said he heard you being shot," he spat. It appeared old rivalries never die. "So all this time you've been with the Dragoons."

"It's not as if it was my choice," I argued, glaring a bit.

"Do you have any idea what you did to Benjamin?"

"It wasn't my fault," I said again, this time firmer, as if willing myself to believe that I hadn't actually caused Ben more heartache than he really needed.

"I'd hate to interrupt this happy reunion," Tavington announced with cold contempt. "But there are more pressing matters to deal with. Stephanie, wait outside—"

"Stephanie?" Rollins questioned with a sneer. "Why the first name bases?"

"You would do well to silence yourself, Rebel," Tavington spat, pulling on his saber. "You never know what might happen."

I don't think I ever gave Rollins enough credit for his intelligence. He grinned, as if the Lord himself had laid a thousand piles of gold at his feet. "So you're the Colonel's whore too?" he tsked. "Imagine what Ben would say if he ever—"

"SHUT UP!" I was a bit taken back myself that it had been me that had shouted. "Don't speak of something you know nothing about, Rollins, less you like another lesson for what happens when you try to dictate to me." And scary, bitch mode reared its ugly head.

Rollins smirked. "You're just as bad as them Redcoats. Don't give a damn about the rest of us."

I could Tavington open his mouth to probably jump into the argument, but I held my hand up, and the fire that blazed through my eyes kept him quiet, much to my surprise.

"What are you talking about?" I growled.

"Do you have any idea of the pain that Ben went through, thinking you were dead? All the agony it caused him."

"I told you, it wasn't my choice. I was taken prisoner!"

"And did you never try to escape?"

"Of course I did. It just didn't work."

"So you became a whore to the Butcher? Interesting change of position."

Color rose in my cheeks as my anger peaked. I loved what I shared with Tavington, but the way Rollins was speaking about it, it seemed ugly, as if I was dirty in his eyes. That made me think about what Ben would say, if he knew of all the things I had done. How I had dirtied myself in my past and then did so again when I was granted a clean slate. What if Ben knew I wanted to marry Tavington? Bare his children; the man who had taken Ben's own son away from him. The same man how would take another son, before he was finally stopped. That is, unless I interfered.

It was at that moment that I knew I couldn't let Tavington die. It was up to me to save his life, as it was to save Gabriel's and Anne's and the people of Pembroke. I knew what was going to happen, as I had known with Thomas, but the next time someone I loved was about to die, I'd be there to save them, even if I had to die in their stead.

"You're right Rollins, I did change my position," I whispered stepping forward with pride. "But no matter what you say, I will always be a Patriot, and know that what I do, I do to pay the Price for my Freedom."

"Make sure you explain that to Ben, Whore," he spat, literally at my feet.

"ENOUGH!" Tavington shouted, stepping in front of me. "You will show the proper respect to her," he warned.

"Respect?" Rollins laughed. "The only respect she deserves is the back of a man's fist. After all, it's what she did to the man who called her a daughter."

I don't think a blow like that could have hit any lower. Without warning (and much to my displeasure) the flood gates opened and my eyes filled with tears faster than warp ten on Next Generation. Emotions I had tried for so long to suppress, emotions that I had thought were gone forever were welling up into my chest. I just stared, wide-eyed with tears falling down my cheeks in torrents at Rollins while he held a satisfied smirk on his face. He had finally brought me low.

Anger hit next. I was angry at myself for caring. I was angry at Tavington for caring about me. I was angry at Rollins for pointing out what I had known was obvious all along. And I was especially angry at whatever divine intervention that had set me on the rollercoaster ride of a story.

I was about ready to open up a can of whoop-ass on the wannabe patriot when Tavington beat me to it. With a jerk, Rollins hit the table with a thud, he back exposed to the room as he stomach lay squished against the hard wood.

"I had warned you to show respect to her. Now you will pay the price for my displeasure."

Rollins chuckled, his cold stare never leaving me as I stood there like a statue, my fists clenched at my sides. "Do yer worst."

"I always do," Tavington whispered. I knew I couldn't stand there and watch Rollins be subjected to Tavington's wrath. Even at my worst, I had never made him as angry as he was at that moment, and the truth was he terrified me. I know that he was only standing up for my honor, but all the same I could do without the bloodshed. For some reason the very thought sent my stomach into queasiness, and I knew I had to get out of the room before I was sick again. I had barely made it outside before the contents of my stomach became known to the world. So much for no more sickness.

Screams pierced the air again. Screams signifying agonizing pain and humility. Screams of terror, despair, and anger. Screams that my heart was making, listening to all that was coming from the house.

I turned and ran, and I kept running until I hit the bank of a stream and I could run no more.

* * *

Tavington POV

Colonel William Tavington smirked as he gazed down at the bloodied body lying slumped against the wall. He had been unmerciful in his quest for information, and for a response to the look that had crossed Stephanie's face when the Rebel had insulted her. His anger had spiked when the tears had gathered in her beautiful brown eyes. Such pain reflected across their dark depths that he had barely reined control over his actions.

At least he had been able to drag out a few names from the Rollins character, names that would no doubt point him in the right direction to capturing the Ghost. But capturing the man who had tormented Tavington for months did leave a bit of a predicament when it came to his beloved. Benjamin Martin was not her father, but from the way Stephanie spoke of him and the conversation that had happened not an hour before, he knew that she cared for him like a daughter cares for a father. And the Ghost seemed to have felt the same way towards her.

Tavington didn't want to hurt Stephanie. He had come to care greatly for her. Her safety, her happiness, and her pleasure were things he strived to give her. Even from the moment he met her he had been infatuated, only he had preserved that infatuation as hatred at first. He knew better now and came to realize a life without her feisty, independent, stubborn nature seemed a boring and unfulfilling one.

The women of the _ton_ cared only of fashion, hair, and gossip, but Stephanie was different. He could speak to her man to man on certain topics, and her intelligence was amazing when it came to military and history. Yet she could also dress and act as a woman, as he had seen that night weeks ago.

He had to give credit to Miss McKay. She turned a militia soldier into a beautiful piece of art, filled with an almost unquenchable passion that even as Tavington took stock of the bloodied room, he could still feel himself getting excited for the events coming that night.

She was a goddess in bed, not that he had any doubt of it. She was a fiery woman outside the confines of the bedroom, why would inside be any different? Her wanton nature did not even dissuade Tavington from seeking her out like some other women he had come across in his day. In fact it made her even more desirable.

But now was not the time to be thinking of her, Tavington acknowledged with a frown, even though there never seemed to be a time when she wasn't floating somewhere around him mind.

With some quick orders, Tavington had the shabby little farmhouse looted and then, as he stepped out in the fresh air of a South Carolina afternoon, he had the place burned to the ground. It did not bode well for him if any more of the Rebels were to find the dwelling.

As the flames consumed the house, and the bodies of the men that had perished in its hollow rooms, Tavington set out across the field to a spot by the river where his men had indicated. It seemed as if Stephanie had sought refuge by the water after her argument.

Walking up to the river through the beautiful wildflowers and sweet corn, he saw her petite form lying across the rich green grass that grew along the bank. Trees shielded her from the hot sun, and the opulent layers of her auburn hair lay sprawled out across the grass as her back faced him. Little sniffles could be heard and Tavington knew that she had been crying, his anger increasing even more knowing why her tears were caused.

"You should never have come," he spoke, startling her.

Stephanie jumped and sat up hurriedly, spinning around and pinning him with an icy glare. Her eyes were red and puffy and her cheeks were blotchy. "What do you mean I shouldn't have come?" she practically spat, wiping away the wetness from her cheeks.

Tavington stood there, scowling at her. She was angry, but no more than he and Now was the not the time, and she needed to know that what she had done could easily have gotten her killed. As much as Tavington admired Stephanie's free-spirited nature, it was time that his wild horse needed to be tamed.

"You know perfectly well what I mean, Stephanie," Tavington replied in the same tone as her. "The business of the Dragoons is no business of yours."

"How was I to know what you were doing inside that house?"

He smirked. "You see my men have interesting ways of informing me about the happenings during a patrol or raid such as this. Apparently one of my lieutenants tried to stop you but you still entered unheedingly."

"So you're saying that this is my entire fault?" she spit out, standing up. "That I knew I was going to be running into Rollins and hurried to meet him?!"

Tavington's smirk was replaced by a frown. "There's no need to be so angry. You were the one to tell me once that curiosity kills the cat. I would have thought that you would have followed your own advice."

"Maybe I should have, but I wanted to see you. I guess I just didn't expect such a hard lesson in reality." She seemed to deflate before his very eyes, her hand reaching up to comb through her hair. Walking forward, and making sure that there was no one around, Tavington took Stephanie into his arms, cradling her head against his chest.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, rubbing her back in soothing circles, trying to relax her, but instead she stiffened.

"This, all of this," she mumbled into his chest. "What the hell am I doing?"

Tavington remained confused until the words of the rebel flashed across his mind; _the only respect she deserves is the back of a man's fist. After all, it's what she did to the man who called her a daughter._

Stepping away from her, Tavington gripped Stephanie's shoulders, staring into her eyes when realization dawned on him.

"You regret what we have, because of the opinion some else had?" His words were bitter and it angered him that it hurt to know that a simple judgment could ruin everything.

Her eyes widened as she shook her head, reaching up to pull his hands away, caressing them in her own. "No, I regret nothing when it comes to you, but look at who we are. Look at what you're known for. Look at what you have done." Her eyes were wavering between his, as if searching for some unknown answer to a question that only she knew.

"You have killed a member of the only family I have left. You have threatened other members and even now you would love to see the man I call father dead. And yet I care for you more than I ever did for them, for no reason I can even contemplate. I mean what the hell am I doing? I should hate you with everything I have in me."

"And why don't you then, hmm?" Tavington barked, his eyes flashing as he pulled his hands away. "In case you have failed to realize, the situation we're in goes both ways. You might want to ask the question of why I come anywhere near you. Why I didn't kill you all those months before when you spoke out against my orders."

"And why didn't you?" She asked, gaining some satisfaction of turning his words on him. "Don't you see what I mean? We are such opposites, how are we even together? And even if we were to marry, we could never live in South Carolina, but this is the only home I have. I can never return to my family, I can never live in the house I grew up. I have nothing, but that which was given to me by Ben Martin."

"And do I count as nothing? If I could, I would give you the stars, but you would never see it," Tavington spat. "Am I always going to be compared to the damned Ghost?!"

Stephanie sighed, her eyes dropping and her body seemingly to deflate. "You are more like him that I think you realize," she spoke softly.

Tavington incredulously stared at her. "I am nothing like that man." And then he turned and walked away, leaving the woman he loved to fall to her knees in tears.

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**Review!**


	45. Chapter 45: A Turn in Events

**Ok, so I know that about now, you all probably want to flog me for being so incredibly late. Well I don't blame you, and I'm afraid all I have is excuses. College was a lot more time consuming than I had anticipated, and not only that, but I have gotten engaged, so now I have all the fun that goes along with that (partly sarcastic, partly serious). All I ask, no, all I beseech to you is that you don't flail my hide. College is almost done, I only have final next week, so I will have the whole summer without ten page research papers and archaeological digs to take up my time. Thank you all who have stuck with this story. I love you all!**

**Chapter quote:** "I knew that if I didn't talk to Tavington soon, we would never be together again."

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**Chapter 44: A Turn in Events**

An idiot, according to the dictionary, is an utterly foolish or senseless person. Well that summed me up in a nutshell. Let's face it, I am an idiot. I picked a fight for no reason at all, and yet, instead of feeling vindicated by the reasons I had to give, I felt even more like a fool, and one that seemed to have lost the only thing worth living for.

Sitting there in the cool grass, my tears continued to wet my cheeks and the skirts that lay tucked around my knees. When I had started out on that ride that morning, I had not expected the events that had happened. I had not expected to run into a former brother-in-arms, be accosted by said man, and then practically tell the man that I loved that it was impossible for us to ever be together. Boy had my day gone to hell.

And then there was the fact that I still had no idea how to save the people of Pembroke. Only a few weeks were left until that fateful day. Even though I knew it was probably never going to work, I was going to try to dissuade Tavington from completing his horrid plan. If that didn't work, I did have a plan B. I hoped that I wouldn't have to use it, for the timing would be everything and I would probably kill myself in the process. Of course I could probably ride to Pembroke and tell them what was to transpire, but there would be awkward questions I didn't really want to answer.

Why was my life destined to be so complicated? I had never asked for it to be so. Adventure? Yes, I had asked for that, but heartache; no. I just wanted to be loved and feel love in return. I didn't ask for it to be Tavington, but as I heard before, love does things for reasons that reason doesn't understand, and I knew I could never love anyone the way I loved him. I didn't care that he was the villain. I didn't care about what he was in relation to me. I had seen the other side of him; a side that I don't believe anyone else ever had or tried to look for. I knew him better than I knew my own brothers.

But of course I had let the opinion of someone else dictate my life. And that was something I had sworn I was never going to do again. People always told me what to do, how to do it and when, but when I came to the 18th century, a sense of freedom was granted to me. I just wanted life to go back to the way it was before. The month I spent in Tavington's arms was Eden for me. I was detached from reality. There was no war, no death, and no destruction. Just love and renewal.

My life had felt as id it was put back together, not a jumbled mess in someone's basement with only the ghosts for company. Now it seemed as if all the pieces just got thrown in the air, and only God knew how they would land.

Why did I question what we had?! Why couldn't I just take it for what it was, others be damned?

Because in a way, Rollins had been right. I was an American, and a Patriot. I had lived in a time that took its freedom and independence for granted, and then I had fought by shedding the life's blood of men for that freedom.

Yet there I was—loving a man that would see that all gone; a man who had killed my countrymen while I stood by and watched. It was then that I realized . . . I was no better than he who pulled the trigger.

* * *

Tavington had left my horse when he had stormed away, but instead of riding her to the camp, I walked back at a leisurely, if not morose pace. The need for speed wasn't prevalent anymore and I felt that a walk would be better to clear my mind, and to place a wall back up around my heart for protection. The leather reins of my horse were held loosely in my hand, and although the fading day still held all the glory of its beauty from when I had first set out, a foggy haze prevented me from enjoying it to its full potential. My heart ached in a way that was all but agony. Worse than Chinese water torture, each step brought another small break into the already cracked structure.

Fear wasn't even present within me as night fell. The spirits and animals that resided within the depths of the forest were not unknown to me, but I had little care for them. Only once did my fragile heart jump when a twig snapped and the sounds of another horse's hooves were heard in the distance. When a flash of red was illuminated in the pale moonlight, I thought only for a moment that Tavington had come back. Stupid, for the man was as stubborn as I, but that didn't stop the twist of despair when I realized that it was another redcoat, sent out to locate my whereabouts.

He escorted me back to camp, where he properly left me to groom and unsaddle my horse before I clumsily stumbled to my tent. It would be the first time I had slept within its depths in over a month. It angered me to feel a little flash of fear at being alone, like a child that just had the nightlight taken away. There were no monsters under my bed, or any demons that would crawl out of the closet. I didn't need someone to hold me in their arms for me to fall asleep. I didn't need the warmth of another's body heat, or the rhythmic beatings of their heart lulling me to a peaceful slumber.

At least that's what I told myself for the next week and a half. Every time I felt the need to run into his arms, I tried to remind myself that he needed space to cool down, for the anger that burned in his eyes seared me to the core. His eyes were a blue acid that engulfed my soul in its angry fires, and he had every reason to be angry. I had all but ripped his heart out and stamped upon it.

But what I don't think he understood was the amount of pain my own heart was going through. I did know that I was to blame for the rift that had come between us, and I knew that if we weren't to resolve our disagreement, the rift would continue to grow like some divergent platonic plate boundary.

I didn't know what to do. I tried desperately to speak to Tavington on the matter, to try and make him understand the reasoning behind everything that I had expressed, but he would have none of it. To me it seemed as if I had fallen off the face of the earth, or passed beyond all time and space.

I think I prayed harder that week than I had ever prayed before in my entire life. The full reality of the situation had crashed upon me in tsunami waves. I knew that if I didn't talk to Tavington soon, we would never be together again. I don't know what fueled this idea, but I knew that life without Tavington was no life at all.

One Sunday, I finally corned Tavington when he was grooming his horse; the beautiful chestnut stallion that I had discovered was the father of the foal growing inside Lainathiel. Yes, my horse was pregnant, but from what I was told by the grooms who helped out at the camp, she was still able to bear my weight for at least another few months.

Tavington slowly and methodically ran the soft bristle brush across the horse's flank. As usual, he surprised me with the gentleness he displayed; a soft cooing came from his throat with each stroke. I stopped a few feet away from him, admiring how this hard and brutal man could be so gentle with another creature of the earth. I watched as his hands, calloused by the reins and swords, were careful to old the brush at just the right angle to bring pleasure to the horse, who leaned into each stroke. I admired those hands, and one quick flash of my memory had me reliving the nights when those hands were on me, stroking and caressing, and like the horse, I greedily savored each touch of skin.

Shaking my head to clear such thoughts, I cleared my throat to announce my presence. My heart was beating heavily in my chest and my palms were sweating with anxiety, but my outward appearance, I prayed, was cool and collective.

Tavington's hand paused mid-stroke, and he did a quick glance behind him. However, instead of acknowledging me with a sadistic remark like I had expected, he completely ignored me and continued with his work.

"William?" I voiced hesitantly.

"I don't believe you have the right to address me as such, madam," he said, his back to me.

I sighed, and rolled my eyes. "Colonel then," I spat back and winced at my own response. If I were to get him to listen to me, I could not by my normal snappy self. I took a breath and said, "Please, I need to speak with you."

"What's said is said. I see no need to continue," he replied with the same snippiness.

"But I didn't mean it!" I pleaded, stepping forward.

At that he turned and faced me fully. "Oh, you didn't?"

My mouth had gone dry when his eyes caught mine, and I swallowed in hopes to give strength to my voice.

"No, I didn't. The shock of seeing Rollins, of the things he said was too much for me. I just . . . I lost it. I'm sorry about the things I said to you, but know that I didn't mean any of it. Please understand how much it is killing me to be parted from you. Surely you feel it too?" It was interesting to leave my heart so open after years of burying it from the world. I could feel the tears gathering in my eyes as I searched his arctic blue ones, wishing I could see a flickering light of forgiveness. There was none.

"You had made your argument of the situation perfectly clear, Miss Hawkins."

"God dammit! Why must you be so stubborn?!" I yelled as my anger took over my sadness. "I'm trying to apologize; to explain to you the error of my ways, but you're shooting me down like some kind of freaking Blackhawk helicopter!"

"A what?" Tavington questioned with firmness, stepping forward. He didn't know what a helicopter was, but I think he could get the underlying gist of my outburst.

"Never mind," I snapped, feeling the same power of fire verse ice that I had felt when Tavington and I had been forcefully locked together. "All I'm saying is that you are being completely irrational when I'm trying to apologize. If you would just listen—"

"I've had enough of your squabbling, Miss Hawkins, and I don't wish to hear anymore!" Tavington snapped with such ferocity that I actually stopped my statement with shock. "You may feel remorse at your little outburst, but in a way I thank you for it."

My eye's widened and my mouth dropped even more. "Huh?"

"Yes, you see," he began, a glint I didn't quite recognize wafted into his oceanic gaze. "Thanks to your little burst of emotion, I have realize the error of my ways. The reason that this damned militia, and your Ghost of a father have been defeating so many of our supply lines, is that I have been far too distracted, my dear. With you."

"With me? Now don't go blaming all your problems on me, Mister," I spat, pointing my finger accusingly at him. "If I recall correctly, _you_ were the one to institute some of those 'distractions'."

His eyes narrowed at me. "Be that as it may, I have decided a course of action that will rectify all that has been a problem of late."

"Really?" I remarked with a snap, folding my arms and leaning onto my hip. "And 'course of action' would that be?"

That smirk, that twist of the lips that Tavington used before something drastic was done sent ice through my veins in a split second. Whatever he had planned, I had a feeling, was not going to end well for me.

"It's quite simple, really. Private!" he called to someone behind me. I twisted my head back and saw one of the new recruits, fresh off of the ship, come trudging through the field with my horse plodding along behind him.

My head snapped back and I gave Tavington a curious glance. "What are you—?"

"Getting rid of the distraction, my dear," the Colonel interrupted, taking the reins and handing them to me. The leather was worn and soft clutched in my fist. "You are free to go. In fact you were able to leave this camp weeks ago, but because of my own selfish . . ." At this he seductively roamed his eyes up and down my form, causing me to feel as if I were naked instead of modestly clothed. "Needs, I suppose you could call them, I wanted to keep you around. I suppose those, I will just have to find someone else to fulfill the needs you couldn't" he finished, meeting my eyes with his.

Against my better judgment, my eyes welled with bitter tears of shame. I suppressed the rising lump in my throat and willed my shoulders to square and my back to straighten. "Fine then," I mumbled, my voice chocked with emotion. "Go find a new whore for your enjoyment. After all, that's all I was to you."

At that I spun around with such force, the roots of grass ripped up from their abode in the ground. Tavington chuckled behind me. "I never said you weren't smart my dear."

For fear I would burst, I shouted only one thing behind me as I marched away. "Go to hell!"

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**Review?**


	46. Chapter 46: Pain

A/N: Hey everyone!

**First I want to give a huge THANK YOU! to every single one of you who gave me their ideas on how to continue with this story. All of you really helped spark my muse in a way that it hasn't been sparked in a very long time. One of you specifically inspired the next course in the story!**

**I'm still writing, but I figured you guys have waited long enough, so I'm posting this chapter for all of you diligent readers who have stuck with me from the beginning and to those who I may add. You guys really increase my writing ego ^_^ **

**I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'll post another one soon, depending on how my writing goes. So far, so good!**

**Chapter Quote: **"Looks like there's no one to save ya now, Poppet"

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**Chapter 45: Pain**

The nerve of him. The utter nerve. I swear, if I ever see that lousy, no good, son of a bitch again, I think I would draw and quarter him with my bare hands. Then maybe set fire to his body. Yea, while he was still kicking! That would do the trick!

Needless to say that as I rode away from the Dragoon camp into the wilds of South Carolina, my anger had hit an all time high; even for my temperament. I didn't want to admit that the anger was masking the hurt that was radiating through my body because that would mean that even when he was a complete and total dickweed, I still loved Colonel Tavington. _No,_ my conscious reminded me,_ I couldn't love him. Not anymore. Not after what he did._

I felt used again. Used, abused, and then discarded like a little girl does when her old doll is replaced by a shinny new one. Now, I knew that no woman had been in the tent of the colonel's even when I wasn't. I had made sure that any competitor that wanted to try had to go through me first, and since I had training with the militia that was still kicking Tavington's ass, I was pretty sure that I had a decent sized rep going.

But then again, much of my predicament falls onto my own shoulders. Doubt is what tore Tavington and I apart, but it was only a bubble in the vast ocean of problems we had. We never discussed an argument between us. We only set it aside for another day that now appears was never to come. We had to hide who we were, what we cared about for protection. We should have had our friends congratulating us, not hiding it from them.

Well Caroline knew, as did Wilkins and Bordon, but the rest were, if not oblivious or disdainful, believe me to nothing but a common whore. _Which is what you are, if you recall the definition,_ my brained reminded me. Maybe I didn't ask for money in return, but I gave my body in hopes of gaining something from Tavington. Protection? Companionship? Love? There were countless endowments Tavington could have given me had I asked for it. For a while it seemed as if I had him wrapped around my fingers, and I was around his as well.

Dammit it all. Why on earth had God granted me anything relating close to emotions. All they ever accomplished was to bring pain, hopelessness, and utter destruction to the very fragile being of my heart. I should have figured it out sooner that my heart was no where near capable of going through another Kevin incident and to set myself up so perfectly was asking to get hurt. I could have kicked myself for not seeing the gigantic cliff I was blindingly heading towards because my eyes were so focused on one man. I should have been plotting a better escape method. I should have been ruining Tavington's plans. I should have been doing so many other things than what I had been.

"Yea, well, shoulda, coulda, woulda," I muttered to myself as Lainathiel continued to plod morosely through the increasing forest density. She was as reluctant to leave the camp as I was, but there was nothing that could be done. We were in all sense of the word banished from that encampment.

For a moment, the dying afternoon sun glinted off the ring on my right hand and a burst of anger erupted inside my chest. I ripped the metal from my finger and drew my arm back to launch the sucker as far as I possibly could, but reason halted my outburst. I could sell the ring to buy some lodging and food, or trade it for information, or a hundred different things. One thing I knew for certain was that ring was better left on my hand than lying in the woods. With a sigh I replaced it in its former position, trying desperately to not think of the night that William proposed. No, thinking of the past would not end at all well for me. All I could do was to think of the future and figure out a way to save Gabriel, Anne, the people of Pembroke and Tavington. Because Lord knows, _I_ wanted to be the one to shank his ass from here to kingdom come. And possibly back again.

However, as difficult as it was, I swallowed my pain and anger, going through the steps I had done a hundred times before to lock away the negative emotions that were erupting inside of me. Too many lives were on the stake for me not to be as concentrated as I could possibly be. In this game there were no do-overs or second chances. I had one shot, and one shot only in which to stop the useless deaths of those I love. It was time to be an adult, to forget _my_ worries, _my_ pains, and anything at all dealing with _me_. I had been selfish for far too long, and I feared that my mistakes, my sins as Ben would put it, will return to bite me in the ass. I needed to stop and think. Use every connection in my mind to come up with a plan; for having a plan always gave me a purpose, a way in which to direct my emotions in a positive and constructive way. Hell, with all the emotions I was feeling, I should probably come up with a plan B and C, just in case.

That night, Lainathiel and I set up camp in the woods on the edge of a stream. The bubbling of water over rock was somewhat calming, giving me a tranquil place in which to map out the arrangements I would use to accomplish what needed to be done.

After I thoroughly brushed Lainathiel until her coat shinned (for I felt guilty about dragging her away from her baby's daddy) I picketed her in a nearby clearing. I then set to work with my sketch pad, listing any number of scenarios and consequences that could possibly arise. I wanted to exhaust all options so nothing would take me by surprise. Even though I had reached a decision that I did not care what happened to me, I would not willingly sacrifice other's lives if it could not be helped.

I was so engrossed in my work next to the little campfire I had made that I never noticed Lainathiel's obvious distress, nor the fall of footsteps on the fresh strewn leaves. It wasn't until a twig snapped right behind me that I even became aware of how the air had chilled, and the unearthly silence that had fallen around me, as if the woods themselves were holding their breaths.

"'Allo, Hellcat," a voice echoed behind me, and I suddenly found my arms pinned to my sides as my book and pen fell from my hands. Just as I was about to let out an unholy scream, the man's hand came up and clamped over my mouth, muting any sounds that I had tried to make. "Thought ya would neva be seein me again, didn' ya poppet?" Garrick whispered into my ear as he threw me to the ground.

I couldn't believe it. After all these months, the bastard that had tried to rape me in the woods outside of the Dragoon camp was standing there next to my fire, a little worse for wear, but otherwise perfectly fine. His greasy, graying black hair was as stringy as I remembered, and he had grown a graying beard around his face that made him seem years older. He looked to be a man who had lost a good deal of muscle and fat in a short amount of time, and his pasty pallor did nothing to quell that idea. But what frightened me the most were his beady, black colored eyes were as sharp as tacks, scrutinizing me laying on the forest floor. I knew when Wilkins had commented that there were only six bodies something was terribly wrong. Why didn't I insist further that they search the surrounding area incase one escaped?

_Because you were frightened, angry, and reeling from the kiss by Mr. Stick-up-his-ass_, my rational mind voiced. Before I could argue with myself, Garrick grabbed a handful of hair from the top of my head in his sausage-esque hands. He painfully dragged me up from the ground as my own appendages tried to work the hair free from his steely grip. I glowered at him from the spot on my knees as I spat, "I thought you were dead, Jack-Ass!"

He smiled a cruel, unforgiving smile and replied, "Ya thought wrong."

Then, before I could allow the string of curses I was thinking to spew from my mouth, Garrick backhanded me as hard as he could across my left cheek. For a moment, all I saw was stars as the pain exploded from the side of my face, and the metallic taste of blood coated my mouth. I think I screamed, but it was hard to hear anything over the ringing in my head.

"Tha' was fer my men killed because of ya," he growled, before focusing the same attention on the other side of my head, splitting my lip and cheek. "And tha's fer the bullet I took in me shoulder, Hellcat."

I spit the blood from my mouth and glared up at the man above me. "Too bad Tavington didn't hit your heart. But then again, he'd have to find it first," I growled at Garrick, sounding braver than I actually felt. I had no idea, no plan of how I was going to get out of this mess, and I knew that I had no one to come to my rescue this time. I was entirely on my own.

Quickly, I took out Garrick's legs, knocking him to the ground opposite me as he released my hair. I sent a kick towards him, hoping to hit anything I could and was able to hit his shins several times as I stood up. Suddenly, he too was on his feet, distributing several punches my way. I dodged a couple, blocked a few and retaliated with some of my own, one hitting him squarely in the side of the jaw.

"Paybacks a bitch, ain't it?" I taunted, dodging another blow, and punching him in the kidney.

With a growl of his own, Garrick blindsided me with a right hook to the face again, damaging the already abused flesh and rocketing me back to the ground. I laid there stunned for a moment. In my hesitation, Garrick landed several kicks to my stomach, sides, and back as I tried desperately to roll away from him. Each hit jarred my bones, making me feel as if a hammer was beating away at my insides. I aimed a kick as his knee, hoping to at least deter him from kicking me more, but he jumped back out of the way before I could land the blow.

"Looks like there's no one to save ya now, Poppet," Garrick gloated, leaving me curled on the ground and walking around the fire, his hands outstretched. "No one is goin' to come to yer aid this time, are they?" His eyes glinted like uncontrolled hell as the image of fire flickered in their black depths.

I rolled onto all fours, holding my ribs as searing pain erupted every time I took a breath. "I wouldn't . . . be too sure . . . about that," I stammered. "You never know . . . who may ha . . . have followed me."

This time Garrick laughed, throwing his head back and barring his yellowed teeth. "No one followed ya, Poppet. I 'ave been watchin' ya since ya left the Dragoon camp. I 'ave been waitin' for months fer an opportunity to get back at ya fer the pain you caused me."

My heart was beating painfully in my chest as I searched for anything in the dying light of day that would save me from the predicament I was in. I tried to stand, the act doubling the pain in my chest as my shaking legs barely had enough strength to hold me up. "Dedicated . . . aren't you," I snapped, wincing inwardly. The headache I was feeling began to pound in an unholy way against the walls of my cranium, making me dizzy and disoriented. Two Garricks were swimming around each other as I tried to focus on one, only to the have the other draw my gaze.

"Ya could say that," he consented, brushing aside my sketch book with his foot as he advanced on me.

I watched in horror as a corner of the book began to burn, having brushed one of the logs that had rolled to the edge of the pit after breaking. Quickly the fire consumed the cover of my sketch pad, working away at each picture, devouring one right after the other. I just stared, paying no attention to the man above me as images from home, from Fresh Water, along with the militia and Dragoon camps slowly disappeared into oblivion.

I vaguely remember Garrick grabbing me again, punching any part of me that he could find. I vainly tried to block his attacks, but his pent up rage and exhilaration of finally discharging his revenge upon me were so strong I could not stop the assault. I just closed my eyes and tried to place myself somewhere, anywhere else than where I was at that moment. I wondered if I was going to be raped as well, and Garrick seemed to have read my mind. Or I spoke the question allowed and he answered, I don't really know.

"I would no' waste the energy on a strumpet such as ya," he spat at an interval between beatings. "I saw yer relationship with the Butcher, and I will no' put my key in the same lock as he!"

Garrick then hauled me up by my hair again, dragging me until I was roughly standing before him. I glared at him through the slits in my swollen eyes, and spat in his face, the salvia and blood mix running down into his beard. Garrick roared with indignation and then wrapped his hand around my neck, squeezing painfully and cutting off my air supply. I clawed at his fingers, trying desperately to pull them away from my throat, but all it did was make him squeeze harder. I thrashed and I kicked, but he seemed to not feel it and slowly black began to cloud my vision. I fought and fought against the darkness, but slowly my limbs stilled, for I had lost the power to control them, and knowing that death could not be that far away, I pictured those I loved in my mind: my parents, my brothers, Ben, Gabriel, and the children. The last conscious thought I had before my world went black was of ice blue eyes filled with love and longing as I slipped away into darkness.

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As a child, I remember my grandfather telling me a story of when his heart stopped on the operating table in the '50s. After he was injured in the Korean War, my grandfather was headed to surgery to fix a disc in his back, only a few months after my mother was born. What the doctors were unaware of at the time was that my grandfather was allergic to the anesthesia. He described to me that after he went under, my grandfather suddenly felt very light, as if he were a wisp of smoke floating in the air. He just floated there, gliding back and fourth like a feather in a current of water when he rotated around and saw his body lying on the hard, metal table. Looking down at himself, he thought of my grandmother, my two aunts, and my mother, and how much they still needed him. He told me he saw lights all around the operating room and he knew he had to choose one of them to continue on, but instead he just glided down and re-entered his body as the doctor re-started his heart.

What my grandfather failed to mention in his story was all the sounds one hears when their spirit is separated from their body. The jingle of a horse bridle with a soft bird song or the blaring of a car horn and rhythmical beeping every few seconds. There can be the sound of a gunshot or the laugh of a child. Even the sounds of lovemaking coupled with the sounds of pure, unbridled agony reach the ears of those lost. The shouting, laughing, crying, and screaming one hears in spirit form act as if all the sounds they have ever heard in their life were humming at once.

I heard each and every one of those sounds. And that was all there was. Sound. No light, no images, I did not see my life flash before my eyes, nor did I see the ones I loved who passed before me. I felt nothing, smelled nothing, tasted nothing. All around me was empty darkness, devoid of any substance except for those resonances of my life.

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**I know. I'm bad, but don't worry, the story is not done! How mean would that be? Just stay tuned and leave me a review of how you like the chapter after such a long break!**


	47. Chapter 47: There's No PLace Like Home

**You guys have been absolutely wonderful! I can't thank you enough for you kindness and support. I had a pretty shitty week and comingonline and seeing all your revies made my day, so thank you.**

**And because you were all so wonderful, I decided to post a second chapter! I've been working steadily getting the story done, but I wanted to give you guys one more in which to read. I hope you enjoy it.**

**Chapter Quote: **"What do you mean I've been missing for four years?"

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**Chapter 46: There's No Place like Home **

Tavington POV

Colonel Tavington paced back and forth in the confines of his tent in the early morning hours, agitated for no particular reason he could fathom. He knew the choice he had made in regards to Stephanie had been the right one, but he still could not shake the feeling that he may have been too harsh, to blunt. After all, he had cared for her, and some small recess of his mind accepted that he may have even loved her, but the distraction she caused was going to lose him this war. And that was something he would not accept. The glory of winning would be the only thing that could save his family's name, and if his brothers were not going to do anything about it, then Colonel Tavington swore he would do it himself. Only then could the distraction of a woman be permissible in his life.

Colonel Tavington let out a sign, and sat into the chair at his desk. As much as he hated to admit it, he did miss Stephanie. Although it had only been a few days since he sent her from camp, there something definitely lacking when he entered into his tent at night. Before her little escapade at the rebel house, Tavington would enter into his tent and right into her waiting arms. Even then, Tavington could feel her embrace and the insatiable lust she had for him. Just remembering those memories increased Tavington's masculine ego, knowing that she had eyes only for him, and willingly gave her body to him after the incident with that despicable little boy. _And yet you sent her away, treating her like a common whore, Old Boy_, he conscious interjected.

Tavington frowned, pushing away the sense of guilt that suddenly assailed him. He would not, under any circumstances doubt his decisions. That characteristic only caused trouble for his, and he refused to admit he was wrong, no matter the cost. Even if his subordinates and Miss McKay thought so.

As the little black cat that Stephanie was fond of rubbed against his leg, Tavington thought back to the moment when he informed his captains of his actions when they questioned him about Stephanie's whereabouts. What he was unaware of was that Miss McKay had overheard him, and although he had known her to be a quiet girl, she unleashed a tirade on him that shocked not only his subordinates, but himself as well. Who knew that such a small woman could produce such volume and vehemence? Captain Wilkins had to forcibly hold her back, for Tavington knew that given the opportunity, her little fists would have been pounding on his chest. Stephanie had definitely worn off onto her friend.

Running a hand down his face, Tavington removed his jacket and boots, followed by his waistcoat and shirt. It was time he stopped thinking about Stephanie and got on with the war. He wouldn't even acknowledge how cold the cot was without her bare backside pressed against his side. No, no more thinking, imagining, reminiscing about a woman who Tavington felt he would never see again. But that thought did not quiet his mind down either until another one made Tavington bolt upright in his bed. She still had his mother's ring!

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Beep. . . Beep. . . Beep. . . Beep. . . The sound of that systematic beeping was like a beacon, drawing me to the surface of my consciousness. I was struggling to wake myself up, for I felt as if tons of weight was pushing down on my body. I was clawing, and thrashing in my subconscious, struggling to open my eyes and see the damage that Garrick had wrought upon my body. I knew I wasn't dead; the incredible pain I was experiencing was testament to it. I figured that if I were dead, I would no longer feel anything, but instead it seemed all I could do was feel.

Beep. . . Beep. . . Beep. . . The sound continued unwavering, and unflinching like a machine. I wanted to plug my ears of its annoying resonances, but I feared that it would only grow louder in my head. I could not remember much of the beating I took, but I did remember the hands around my neck, and I vaguely wondered if Garrick was keeping me alive only to increase my suffering. His sadistic nature would warrant such torture, and it was not the first I wish I was being incarcerated by Tavington instead of Garrick.

Beep. . . Beep. . . Beep. . . Why won't someone make that noise stop? What is causing that insistent chatter! I tried to move my head away from the sound, but the minimal movement I made increased the pain I was feeling tenfold, making me groan. Suddenly, I felt someone grab my right hand, and sounds I had not noticed before were slowly increasing in volume. Voices were whispering back and forth while something metal banged against the bed I was in. Someone's foot was tapping on the hard floor and distantly someone called for a Doctor Rosenblatt to room 328. Where was I?

Beep. Beep. Beep. The sound was slightly faster than before, and slowly, ever so slowly I opened my eyes into blinding light. I squinted, trying vainly to focus on a single object, but my contacts had been removed, masking everything in a fuzzy blur. Suddenly, a woman with dark hair entered my line of sight and bent down over me. Her warm, golden brown eyes were filled with unshed tears, and the wrinkles around her eyes and smile did nothing to diminish her beauty.

"Mom?" I choked out, my throat dry and rough.

"It's me, Sweetie, it's me," my mother whispered as a sob escaped her throat. She bent down and kissed my forehead, brushing the wisps of hair from my face. She glanced up at someone on the other side of my bed, and shifting my head slightly another face entered into my field of vision. My father stood next to my bed, tears also in his eyes and running down his cheeks as he gazed at me.

"Daddy?" I whispered. He also grinned, and ran his hand down my cheek, as if he couldn't believe I was really there.

"Hey Honey. I'm so glad you're awake," he smiled.

"What happened? Where am I?" My voice was hoarse and each word was like sand paper as I choked out my questions.

"You're at Roper St. Francis Hospital in Charleston, Stephie," my mother explained, continuing to brush my hair back, although it wasn't falling forward. "We got a call a few days ago that you were here. We drove all the way down from Milltown when we heard. Tommy is here too."

"Tommy's here?" I question, trying to look around and see my brother.

"Yea, he just ran out to get some food for your mother and me," my father interjected. "He'll be back in a few minutes."

"Here, you probably can't see a thing," my mother said, pulling out a glasses case from her purse and extracting my old pair. As my father played with the bed to raise me up a little, my mother placed the glasses over my eyes, sharpening my surrounding.

I was in a traditional hospital room with pale whitewashed walls and blue accents. A window stood off to my right with a couch underneath, letting in the afternoon sun and a TV hung on the opposite wall, next to the large metal door. The drapes that would normally hide my bed were drawn back and several medical instruments stood all around me, explaining my vitals or giving me medicine of some kind. My bed arched forward only a little before I gasped in pain, and my father stopped the progression.

"What's wrong? What is it?" Both my parents asked concerned.

"She has several broken ribs, and a punctured lung," a voice spoke from the door. The doctor, a tall redheaded woman with striking blue eyes that were eerily familiar was standing in the entrance, holding a folder that I assumed contained my medical information. "Hi, I'm Doctor Katherine Rosenblatt. I was one of the chief surgeons assigned to your daughter," Dr. Rosenblatt said, walking into the room and shaking both of my parent's hands. "On top of her internal injuries, there was some serious bruising to her neck and she sustained a broken wrist and a sprained ankle. You went through quite an ordeal," she addressed me, walking to my bedside.

I tried to sit up further but the pain in my abdomen and back prevented further movement. She laid a hand on my shoulder, putting a stop to me from moving anymore.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. Your internal injuries were pretty severe, bordering on critical. We were almost unable to stop your internal bleeding. You must have someone watching over you," she smiled, and then turned back to my parents. "I hope you don't mind, but I need to speak with Stephanie alone for a few minutes. I'll let you back in as soon as we're done."

My mother looked as if she wanted to refuse, ringing her hands together in an agitated way, but it was my father who spoke up. Wrapping an arm around my mother and pulling her towards the open door he said, "No, that's fine. We'll wait right outside."

Once the door was shut behind my parent's retreating forms, Dr Rosenblatt focused her attention back on me, pulling up a rolling stool that had been off to the side. "I'm sorry to make your parents leave, but this examination needs to be done just between you and me. I need to ask you, and forgive me for my frankness, but were you raped during your ordeal?"

I looked at her confused. "Ordeal?" Saliva was finally beginning to be produced in my mouth, coating my throat making it easier to speak.

She smiled sympathetically at me. "Do you not remember?"

I just sat there blinking at her and then slowly shook my head no.

She signed, opening the folder, writing something within it, and then closing it again. Placing her pen in the front pocket of her white lab coat, she focused her crystalline blue stare on me and told me a story that seemed so improbable. "About a week ago you were found on Route 21 near Smoaks. You were unconscious, and it appeared that you had been beaten, several times. The man who found you called for help immediately and you were airlifted here. Since you have been missing for four years, the police have opened up a kidnapping case. And the FBI is involved."

I just laid there on that hospital bed, the blanket scrunched up in my fists as I tried to absorb what she was saying. "What do you mean I've been missing for four years?"

She sighed, again writing something in the folder before turning her attention back. "This is something you need to discuss with the police and your family. I am here to make sure you get back to 100% medically, or as close as possible." She then seemed to hesitate, as if unsure how to go on. Normally I would have missed such a gesture, but after my time in the militia and Tavington, I had come to pick up on subtleties many others missed.

Dr. Rosenblatt merely took a breath and continued. "I asked if you were raped because . . . when you were brought here, as a standard procedure for a woman unconscious about to undergo extreme surgery, we did a quick pregnancy test," she paused as if unsure how to go one. I was holding my breath, praying in my head that what she was about to say was not true. As if steeling herself against an assault the doctor sat up straighter, and took a deep breath before letting the bomb drop. "Yours came back positive."

I closed my eyes, willing away the flood of emotions that had rolled to the surface, not wishing to deal with pain of they would bring. I was hurting far too much, and I just wanted it to go away. I just wanted everything to be happy again. To be in Tavington's arms, to place his hand over my belly and tell him he was going to be a father. Would he be happy? Angry? Indifferent? I wasn't sure how he would have reacted, _and I guess I never will know_, I thought as a single tear fell down my cheek.

The doctor coughed, as if uncomfortable with the situation. "How . . . how far am I?" I choked out as I opened my eyes to stare off into space.

"Were," she answered.

I regarded her with a stunned stare as I asked, "What do you mean 'were'?"

This time her look was full of sympathy and pity, a looked that all but stopped my heart in my chest as my hands subconsciously covered my stomach. Smiling in what I assumed was a reassuring way, she bit her lip quickly before saying to me, "I'm sorry, but the extent of your injuries, on top of the pregnancy, was too much for your body to handle. Your body rejected the baby in order to save itself."

My world seemed to have crashed down around me. I felt as if I was suffocating with grief and anger, two emotions that seemed to be the only ones for me to feel. This time the tears did fall down my cheeks, and I made no move to stop it. Although I was not thrilled about a baby, the child was part of Tavington, something I received from him that I would be able to love and cherish forever; someone who I could hold, and feel as if I was holding him. I still loved Tavington. No matter how someone would argue my reasoning or question my sanity, I loved that man like I have loved no one before.

I sat there brooding until the doctor laid a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I am truly sorry for what has happened to you. If you do not wish to have a rape kit done, then it will not be. You have a choice." I just nodded my head in understanding, not really wanting to be talkative at that moment. Slowly, I used my good hand to wipe away the tears. I didn't want my parents to see me like this. I needed to be strong, if not for them, then for the child I should have had.

"I can send the hospital psychologist down here if you would like?" she voiced tentatively, standing up to leave.

I shook my head no before finally looking at the doctor. "Thank you, for everything you've done. I am sad that I lost the baby, but these things happen for a reason. God has a plan for me that I don't understand right now," I sighed. "I just need to focus on healing physically, before I can heal emotionally."

She smiled sadly, "You are very wise for someone so young."

I smiled at her, as if to reassure her that everything would be ok. "I've had to be, in order to survive."

As one tear rolled down her cheek she turned and headed for the closed door, turning to regard me before she opened it. "I'm going to increase your pain medication so that you may sleep easier. I'll send a nurse to do that as soon as I am able. I'll be back to check up on you later, Miss Hawkins."

I smiled and nodded before she opened the door and left, leaving me to my thoughts.

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As soon as the doctor left, my parents entered back into the room, looking curious but not voicing their curiosity. I knew the doctor was not going to tell them anything unless I said she could, and I wasn't sure that I wanted them to know about the pregnancy. Although it appeared that everyone was under the impression that I was kidnapped and raped for four years, I wasn't willingly going to admit where I really had been. I don't think my parents were going to understand if I explain that I fell into the Patriot movie and fell in love with the villain. And I really didn't want them to know that I had had sex, incredible, wonderful sex with him. Although I was twenty-two in this world, just as I had been in 1780, I could see in my mother's eyes that she didn't see me older than 18. What would they do if they knew I had been pregnant? I did not particularly want to find out the answer to that question, no matter how curious I was.

My parents and I chitchatted for a few minutes, my mother filling me in on the family news as if the last four years never happened. Apparently my cousins had all been married, and either had or were expecting children. It seemed that since my absence, my family had exploded. My grandparents had finally gone on their trip to Alaska, something my grandmother had wanted to do for years, and my great-grandmother at 97 was planning a trip to Scotland if she made it to 100.

I listened quietly, feeling a sense of dejectedness because of all that I had missed. I don't think my mother meant for it, but I was beginning to feel as if I didn't belong. There was so much that I had missed out, that I never got to experience with my family. But as I thought about it, unless it dealt specifically with my brothers or parents, I did not particularly care. There was a lot that I had missed out with my immediate family, and for that I was truly regretful.

Suddenly, in the middle of a story involving the family and a water-fight in the middle of the Green River in Wyoming, someone came skidding into the room, carrying two plastic bags of Chinese food. The man stood there, staring stupidly at me before dropping the bags and practically flying to my bedside, enveloping me in a giant hug. As much as I enjoyed the sentimental embrace, the pain I was feeling forced me to say, "Tommy! I'm happy to see you too, but please let me go!"

My brother drew back away from me, a giant smile spreading over his face as he held onto my shoulders. "Sorry Monkey, it's just that I missed your overbearing sense of drama." Just like that, Tommy had released any tension that had formed from my long absence. I smiled, a sense of love enveloping me that was only reserved for my youngest brother.

"Yes well, I learned from the best there is Dear Brother," I shot back, watching as the same spark in my eyes entered into his. Both my parents laughed and I could feel the bond between my family slowing being tied back together.

"Well you know that there is none better than Thomas Hawkins, Monkey!" he practically shouted, puffing his chest out and flexing in arms in over exaggerated manner.

I rolled my eyes, smirking slightly as I retorted, "Again with the ego the size of Russia, and don't call me Monkey! I am not Abu!"

Tommy just smiled and patted my head in a very patronizing way. "But you're the one I kiss at the end of Aladdin, and besides, I've been calling you that since you were four. What makes you really think I'm going to stop now?"

I merely glared at him, and would have smacked his hand away had I the ability to move without causing severe pain.

"Oh, I got a call from Bry and Jamie when I was at Dragon Garden," Tommy continued, directing his attention to my parents. "They're both catching flights on Thursday, but they can only stay till Sunday."

"Why didn't they call us?" my mother asked, a perplexed expression on her face as she picked up her 'Mary Poppins' purse as I called it, and began to rummage through.

"They did," Tommy shrugged. "You guys didn't pick up so they figured you were with Steph and couldn't hear your phones."

Just then, a nurse entered into the room, carrying a large bag of some clear liquid. She smiled awkwardly as she hooked the IV up to my arm, and quietly explained that it was the pain medication Dr. Rosenblatt has requested. As soon as the clear substance began to flow into my veins I could feel my eyelids begin to droop, and closed my eyes while my family continued to speak quietly. Soon I was asleep in what I wished had been dreamless.


	48. Chapter 48: The Storm on the Horizon

**Thank you for your wonderful (and not so wonderful) reviews! I truely try to make this story enjoyable for as many people as possible and I love everyone's opinion!**

_And while I'm sure that unless you live under a rock you have read/watched/heard of the oil spill in the Gulf, so let's keep those people, animals and enviornments in our prayers and hope that it will be stopped soon!_

**Chapter quote: **"So you're telling me you've been in the 18th century for four years?"

* * *

Chapter 47: The Storm on the Horizon

_"Come with me, Stephanie," a voice whispered. I opened my eyes and looked all around me. I was lying in the middle of the greenest field I have every seen. The grass was knee high and soft, blowing softly in a breeze I could not feel. The sun was high in the crystalline blue sky, casting no shadows on anything around me. I sat up, relishing the movement I thought I couldn't do, and only for a fleeting moment did I wonder why my injuries were gone. _

_"Stephanie," the voice whispered again. Quickly I stood, spinning around wildly, trying to determine where the voice had come from._

_"Hello?" I said. "Hello!" _

_"Stephanie!' I spun around, and there stood Tavington, glaring at me in his perfection. He was in his dress uniform with his bearskin hat tucked under his arm. His hair was smooth and his face was clean shaven._

_"Colonel?" I voiced hesitantly, unsure if I should approach._

_"Why did you leave me?" he asked crisply._

_My eyes widened and I tried to walk to him, but he seemed to remain just out of reach no matter how far my legs took me. "I didn't leave you. You forced me away," I responded._

_"No, you left me to die. I wanted to give you a home, a family, and protection. I loved you and you ran away from me. You never loved me." His words were soft, but potent all the same._

_"No, no you're wrong," I argued desperately. "I love you with every fiber of my being. I love everything about you, and I have forgiven you for what you did to Thomas. I left because I love you, because that was what you wanted. You wanted me to leave." The truth coming from my lips surprised me, as if I wasn't the one actually voicing that particular sentiment. _

_Suddenly his eyes turned black, and his visage melded together until Garrick stood before me, laughing maliciously as he reached for me. I screamed and turned to run, but no matter how hard I thought I was running, it felt as if I was barely lifting my legs. As if I was trying to run through water. _

_"No, no, please, no. Tavington! William! Save me!" I screamed. The sky had darkened and the ground was dry and dead, but still I could barely move my feet. "Please! Colonel, please!"_

"Monkey!"

_"No don't hurt me!"_

"Steph!"

"_Please! I'm begging you!"_

"STEPHANIE!"

"Whaaaaa!" With a cry I jerked awake, my brother's worried eyes gazing down at me. Tears were coating my cheeks, and I felt a sob escape.

"Woah, woah, clam down, Steph," my brother whispered, crawling into the hospital bed with me and wrapping his arms around my frame as I cried into his shoulder. "It's ok, I've got you. I won't let anything happen to you."

I just continued to cry, burying myself into Tommy's shoulder. There was a time for strength and a time for release. This was a time to let myself go, and by doing so I was helping myself heal, even though at that time I was unaware of it. Slowly I calmed, my sobs turning to hiccups as the furor faded away for the moment, but I could not get the image of disappointment in Tavington's eyes out of my head.

As my hiccups turned into a light wheezing, Tommy's embrace slacked only enough so he could snuggle down next to me, the way we did when we were children. He pulled me as close to his side as I could go without hurting myself, wiping away my tears as he did. No one could ever argue that my brother and I truly loved each other.

When my breathing returned to normal, and I was calmer Tommy asked, almost hesitantly, "Who is William?"

"What?" I questioned, gazing up at him inquisitively, wiping the last of the tears off my cheeks.

"You were shouting for William to help you. Who is he?" Tommy persisted. He gazed into my eyes, as if hoping I could telepathically transpire my memories so that no word would be said. It was a joke for our childhood that became a tread in our tightly braided bond.

I looked away, trying to figure out how to tell my brother about everything that happened to me. "I . . . um . . ."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I'm just curious." He tried to sound nonchalant, but I knew my brother, and I knew his curiosity was almost as insatiable as mine.

"No, I want to tell you, Tommy. I'm just trying to figure out how."

Tommy sat up, letting me lay on his chest. Briefly I noticed that it was three in the morning, but after doing nothing but sleep for over a week, I didn't mind being up that late. And I knew Tommy didn't mind either, he a night owl anyway.

I signed quietly, thinking. "Tommy, what do you think happened when I was . . . missing?"

I felt him stiffen slightly and then relax, his embrace tightening a fraction. "I don't know. I hoped . . . I hoped that you just got a random case of amnesia and forgot about us. Not that that was much better but I couldn't . . . I wouldn't believe that someone took you. That someone could take my baby sister away from me." A plethora of tears had gathered in both our eyes, and I snuggled into his chest more, noticing that my scrawny brother wasn't so scrawny anymore.

"But when they found your car abandoned at the Vince Lombardi rest stop in Jersey . . . I just, I don't know, I thought the worst."

At this I perked up slightly, not quite understanding what he said. "What do you mean they found my car?"

Tommy shrugged. "The cops found your car after you never showed up in D.C. and mom called the police. It was the only trace they found of you."

I was thoroughly confused by this point. How could anyone have found my car? _I_ had found my car near the deserters' camp laying in a tangled mess. I was definitely in an accident when I went back in time, not abducted.

"That's not how I remember it," I voiced.

"Then what happened? You told the police earlier that you couldn't remember a thing." A few hours after I was given the pain medication, I awoke to find several detectives and Special Agents from the FBI speaking to my parents. They hoped that they could speak to me on my supposed incarceration for four years once I woke up and ready to give my statement. However, there was no flipping way in hell I was going to tell them I was in the 18th century for four years, so I played up that I couldn't remember a thing. That I had been drugged and beaten so many times during my "abduction" that I couldn't focus on a single moment. Whether my medical history confirmed that or they thought I was suffering from post-dramatic stress disorder I didn't know but I wasn't questioned further.

"I lied, Tommy," I answered, biting my lip. "There was no way I was going to tell them what really happened to me."

He paused for a moment before inquiring, "Then what really happened to you?"

I took a breath, steeling my resolve. Although I wasn't telling my parents or police what happened, I needed someone to confine in, and there was no one who could keep my secrets better than Thomas Hawkins. "I was in a car accident, Tommy. In Stamford. A tractor-trailer swerved into my lane and squished me between it and the Jersey barrier," I began, but Tommy interrupted me.

"But your car didn't have a scratch on it when they found it in Jersey! I know. I saw it when they towed it home."

I lightly shrugged. "I'm telling you, Tommy. I remember the accident. But it's what happened next that was pretty unbelievable." For the next half hour, I described as best I could my arrival in the eighteenth century. As I did, Tommy got up and started pacing while I described meeting Ben and the children, and some of the adventures we had. I told of the ride to Charles Town and the promise I had made to Gabriel. I even went so far as to explain the skirmish that had been fought in the Martin's back yard and the way in which we transformed the house into a hospital. But when I got to the part about how Tavington had showed up and the first time I saw him, my throat closed up painfully and I couldn't speak for a moment.

"So you're telling me you've been in the 18th century for four years?" Tommy asked incredulously, noting my silence.

Looking a little sheepish I answered, "Yea, basically."

He just stood there staring at me blankly for a few minutes before saying, "What the hell did they do to you, Steph, to make you think you were in the 1700s?"

"Nobody made me _think_ anything, Tommy. It's true, everything I have been telling you is true!"

"Yea, I know it's true, Steph. It's history. We learned about from about the first grade on –"

"I'm not talking about the Declaration of Independence or the war," I interrupted. "I'm talking about the people I met, and the war _I_ experienced. Benjamin Martin and his son Gabriel, along with Colonel Burwell, General Cornwallis, _Tavington_; these were all people that I met when I was there. People I fought along sides, or fought against."

Tommy signed, rubbing his eyes tiredly before stalking over to a chair and dragging it closer to my bedside. "Monkey, all those people you were talking about we've studied since we were little. Don't you remember how obsessed Dad was with the Revolution? The story of when he took Mom, Bry, Jamie, and me to the Art Museum in Denver before you were born to look at the letters discovered dating back to the 1700s? The letters written by Benjamin Martin?"

I just blinked at Tommy, not remembering a single memory that he was describing. Our mother was obsessed with history, not Dad. And my father hated museums except for the sciencey ones. He would never go to an art museum unless dragged there kicking and screaming.

"I don't want to scare you Tommy, but I don't remember any of that," I told him hesitantly.

He leaned back against his chair, not looking at me while he ran his hands through his curling tresses. "How can you not?" he finally asked, glancing up and staring intently into my eyes. "I don't get it Monkey. You were named after the letters!"

"What do you mean?"

He sighed before continuing. "The letters were found in an old chest, buried at a plantation in South Carolina. It was a huge find at the time, so for a while selected letters were traveling around the country. What made them interesting was that both American and British military commanders' correspondents were in the chest. And in one of the letters, Colonel Martin was describing a girl named Stephanie. I remember that Mom and Dad loved that name so much, that when you were born, that's the name they gave you." Tommy stopped his narration and continued to stare at me, as if hoping the story he was describing would stir a memory. But all I though about was how ironic it was that I was named after myself…..

But then another problem presented itself. "That's all well and good, but how is it you saw letters written by a Benjamin Martin when he is nothing but a character in the movie _the Patriot_?"

"The what?" It was Tommy's turn to look bewildered.

"_The Patriot!_ You know my absolute favorite movie with Mel Gibson and Heath Ledger?" I asked again, looking at Tommy as if he had three heads. How could he not remember? "Don't _you_ remember how James and Bryan snuck us into the theatre to watch it because Mom wouldn't let you and me see it? And how I was practically bouncing in my seat because I was so excited, and you three were worried I was going to get us kicked out? Don't you remember that?"

Tommy just sat there, and then slowly shook his head. "I don't remember any of that, Monkey. I've never heard of that movie in my life."

I sighed, exasperated. "But Tommy, that movie was why you went to school for American History. Why you got that internship in DC studying letters and journals from back then."

Again, Tommy shook his head. "No, I went to school and got that internship so that I could study those letters that we saw at the museum. _I_ wanted to touch them and read them and study them. Not because of a movie that I have never even heard of."

I growled, throwing my head back against the pillow, which wasn't such a good idea since I hurt my sides and my head. Slowly I realized that my pain was beginning to increase, but the conversation that Tommy and I had been having was keeping me from paying any sorts of attention to it.

I took several deep breaths, both to calm myself and to focus on ignoring the pain before I said, "Tommy, are we from like two different dimensions? How can we have so many of these differences, and yet remember others that are exactly the same? It's like two pieces of a puzzle that kind of match, but not really." I looked over at my brother, and there was a deep sadness in his eyes.

"I don't know Steph. I really don't. But right now it doesn't matter. What matters is you healing enough so we can go home."

Home. The idea was almost foreign to me. How could I go home when I had three of them? I had a home with Ben, a home with Tavington, and a home here. Which one could I choose? Which one _should_ I choose?

I nodded mutely and Tommy rose from his chair and headed toward the door. "It's late, you should try to get some more sleep. Mom and Dad will be back in the morning. I told them to leave so they could get some rest." Again I nodded as I tried to snuggle down into the blankets and pillows on my hospital bed, without disturbing the IVs attached to me. "I'm going to get a nurse to give you more pain meds," he said as he turned at the door. "I'll be right back." And with that Tommy walked out into the brightly lit hallway of the hospital.

As he left, I angled my head to the side, watching as the dark sky began to lighten into a soft purple-pink color and wondered where my life was heading now that I was . . . home.

* * *

I was in the hospital for another week before I felt well enough for the drive home. Bryan and James had come out for a few days to see me, bringing with them tons of pictures and stories of their families. I learned that Bryan and Leah had had another daughter while I was gone named Cheyann Nicole, and my brother James and his wife Kelly had a son Cale. Unfortunately, because of complications, Cale was born about five weeks early and while in the hospital contracted some kind of infection in his ears, leaving my only nephew permanently deaf. Although it was unfortunate, James was looking forward to learning sign language and the doctors had assured him that Cale would grow up relatively normal.

While I was ecstatic to see my brothers, there was a definite loss that I knew I could never find in 2010. As much as it sucked, I truly missed Tavington. Our verbal fencing matches were actually kind of fun now that I was able to think back on them, and his personality fit with mine in a way that worked. We were able to support one another subtly or goad each other on to accomplish goals we thought we could not reach. And I'm not going to lie, I just missed his touch. The feel of his chest beneath his fingers and the lingering of lips at the base of my neck were nothing but memories now.

I also missed Ben and Gabriel. Although Tommy and Gabriel were eerily similar in many ways, Gabriel was far more reserved and dignified in a way my charismatic and slightly awkward brother could never be. And while I loved my Dad more than I could say; Ben was that second father to me. Where my father was "Daddy," Ben was my "Papa." And I missed him terribly, knowing now that I could never see him again.

The drive home to Connecticut was a long one. We never traveled more than eight hours a day, for I would get weak and my pain tolerance would diminish. It took us three days to get home, for what normally would have been a one and half day event. I didn't talk much on the drive up, and while I knew that my parents were worried, they never voiced their concerns. Bryan and James had gone home a few days before, promising to come out with their families sometime in the late summer, and Tommy was going to stop by on his way up to Boston from D.C. Apparently he got a job working with the very letters we had spoken about, and they were currently housed at a museum in Massachusetts.

We arrived home to a huge crowd of people. It appeared that my reemergence into the realm of the 21st century was something of a miracle and I was a celebrity. At least for that week. The local news wanted my story and people who hated me in high school now appeared to be crying in relief. All in all, it was a very strange occurrence, and luckily for me after only a few days, and my lack of enthusiasm, much of the media had broken off in order to pursue the latest breaking news and I was left to my own devices.

Although it was flattering to know that some people were generally interested in my story, and wanted to know every detail, I could not come up with any story better than I just couldn't remember. If only that had been the case. I was able to distract myself during the day with the beach (since it was summer), working odd jobs for my neighbor or watching marathons worth of movies (there was a lot I need to get caught up on), but when I would go to sleep at night, my dreams were always haunted by one man I wish I could forget. Similar to the nightmare I had that first night, I would open my eyes to the same crystalline sky, and Tavington would be standing in front of me accusing me of never loving him, of abandoning him and I would plead with him it was not the case until Garrick reared his ugly head and I would turn and run. I didn't know what the dreams meant, if anything at all, but I could not stop myself from waking up in a cold sweat with tears running down my cheeks every time.

My wounds were finally healed, and after a short grieving time for the child I had lost, I moved on with my life, establishing a routine that I hoped would create some stability. Colorado University was still honoring their scholarship, and made it clear that when I chose to attend it would be waiting for me, but something stopped me from attending when September rolled around. Before I had been all gun-ho about leaving Connecticut, but now that I had (although it was a slightly different case) I wasn't too incline to run off anytime soon. Therefore, I started taking some minor classes at the local community college, using the excuse I was just getting the core classes out of the way. Those classes helped focus my mind in a positive direction, but just when I thought I had everything put back together again, another storm was brewing on the horizon.

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**I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think!**


	49. Chapter 49: Revelations

**Hey everyone! Thank you for your wonderful reviews! I'm not going to lie, this chapter was like pulling teeth and I'm not too fond of it, but you have waited long enough for an update. I hope you enjoy it!**

**Chapter quote: **If only they knew what I had gone through, they would have realized I was stronger than they thought.

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Chapter 47: Revelations

Growing up, my mother had saying she would repeat whenever a plan of mine failed to go through, "Sometimes the best laid plans go awry." Every time she's say it I would feel frustrated. My plans should have gone right, there was no reason for them not to, but a variable was always forgotten, or a scenario I never thought would occur would be the one that ruined everything. I'm not saying I never had one go right, but the really important ones seemed to have been screwed in some way or another. Well I wasn't going to let that happen again, no matter what happened.

* * *

Labor Day weekend, the last unofficial weekend of summer. It had been three months since I had returned home, and slowly I was beginning to adapt to 21st century life again. Hot showers whenever I wanted and indoor plumbing were definitely a plus to coming home, but I found myself restless more often than not. I had been so active in the 1700s that now my idleness (mostly due to my injuries and overprotective parents) was making me go insane. Even when I wasn't directly involved with the fighting, such as being in the Dragoon camp, I still felt I was helping the cause by not giving the Colonel any information and at times keeping him focused on me.

Nowadays, when I wasn't working, or in class, I had nothing to do but lie around the house; and while it was nice in the beginning, now I was thoroughly bored. Not even my homework from the classes I was taking could cure my boredom because the work was so incredibly easy that it took no time at all to complete. Therefore, I had been spending my days reading whatever I could outside on our back deck.

Even before the accident, my favorite place in the entire world during the summer was sitting, curled into a corner on the deck with a book or my music, while the sun drifted across the sky. It was calming to me to have the wind blowing through the trees in my spacious back yard and watching the birds, rabbits, and woodchucks scurry across the lawn. Consequently it was no surprise to my parents that I had taken refuge back there whenever I could. It was there while I was reading the final Harry Potter book when I heard the front door slam on that Saturday of Labor Day weekend. Curious as to who would be home, it wasn't long until Tommy came striding through the back door, gently kicking the cat back into the house as the little bugger tried to escape.

"Damn cat," Tommy growled as we heard the perpetual cry echo inside the house from my disgruntled tabby-cat. I just chuckled, laying the book on the glass table so as not to lose my place.

"Hey Tommy," I greeted, smiling. I was a little surprised at the attire in which I found my brother. Normally, he preferred a band T-shirt, jeans and boots of some kind, but today he had on a nice, light blue button down shirt and dark brown slacks. This look sharpened my knowledge more of how much of a man my brother had become.

"Hey," he replied. "Where are Mom and Dad?"

"Golfing," I answered, moving my chair aside so Tommy could bring up another one from the deck box.

Tommy gave me an incredulous look. "Since when does Mom golf?" he asked, dropping the chair next to me.

I shrugged, smiling. "I have no idea. One day Mom was just like 'I'm going golfing with your Dad. Be back later.' How she got inspired, I have no idea."

Tommy just shook his head as he sat down with a grunt. "I don't think I'll ever understand that woman."

"Well you're related to her," I laughed.

"So are you, Monkey," Tommy retorted back, loosening some of the buttons and revealed the tell-tale sign of a band shirt. _I guess some things never change_, I thought as I just rolled my eyes.

"So what are you doing here? I thought you weren't coming down till tonight?" I asked curiously.

This time it was Tommy's turn to shrug. "I got done earlier than I thought."

"Oh, ok," I said, picking my book up to continue reading, but I noticed Tommy was still looking at me, a perplexed look on his face. "What? Do I have something in my teeth?" I remarked, picking at my teeth.

"No, no it's nothing like that," Tommy said, hesitantly. He looked as if he were a child who knew a big secret but wasn't sure whether to tell.

"Then what is it? Spill, Baboo," I said firmly, but not angrily. Although I will admit, his beating around the bush was a bit annoying. In fact I had noticed how everyone, most especially my parents, was treating me like some kind of a delicate doll, as if one bad remark was going to break me. If only they knew what I had gone through, they would have realized I was stronger than they thought.

"Remember when you told me the story about where you were for the last four years?" Tommy said, bringing me back down to earth.

Rolling my eyes frustratingly, I snapped, "It wasn't a story Tommy, it's the truth! Why don't you believe me?"

Quickly he held his hands up in surrender. "Woah, calm down there squirt, I do believe you. It took a while, but I do.

"Listen, I came home early so I could talk to you, and the fact that Mom and Dad are gone makes it a little easier."

I gave him a curious look. "What do you mean?"

He signed, running a hand through his disheveled auburn curls. "I think you're going to go . . . back."

My heart seemed to freeze in my chest. "What?" I breathed.

"Remember the letters I told you about?" he asked and I nodded. "Well, some of them were written by Colonel Benjamin Martin, the man who led the American militia, but some were written by a Lt. Colonel in the British army. His name was—"

"William Tavington," I answered, interrupting Tommy.

My brother nodded slowly. "Yes, but that was not the most interesting part of the letters, Steph. Each one we found speak in some fashion about a girl that they both knew. Well we get a name in Martin's letters: Stephanie. But Tavington never mentions the name of the girl he addresses. He just calls her a 'hellion,' 'belligerently outspoken' and 'an insufferable wench who listens to no one but herself.'" I smiled, knowing for a fact that Tavington was speaking about me, having said much of that to my face.

"But he never mentions her name," Tommy continued. "Most of what we found is merely him describing the capture of a female member of Benjamin's militia and her imprisonment within his camp. It isn't until halfway through the timeline of his letters, and a journal we discovered, that something began to change. He wasn't so aggressive when talking about her anymore. In fact, there was evidence he was defending her. It was like their relationship had changed somehow."

My eyes lowered me eyes as I remembered how things had changed. The meetings by the river and in the fields as well as the events surrounding my salvation from Garrick and his men changed both of us, maneuvering our relationship into a place that we didn't understand. If only I could have known then what I know now, maybe the circumstances in which I left might have been different.

"Steph, I didn't realize how significant the girl really was until I came across a letter than somehow had gotten missed in the original catalogue."

"How did it get missed?" I asked, bringing my eyes back to Tommy's and trying to ignore the pain I was feeling at being parted from that adventure I had been on.

My brother shrugged. "I don't really know, but Tavington finally mentioned the girl's name. It was Stephanie Hawkins." Tommy's eyes bore into mine. "He was talking about you, wasn't he? You knew him."

Slowly I nodded. "Yes," I admitted. "The girl in all those letters, the girl who fought with the men, who had been captured by the Dragoons; that girl was me Tommy. And I would be lying if I didn't admit that a part of me still wishes I was there."

Tommy sat back, as if the acknowledgement from me confirmed a theory he had going in his head. "You loved him, didn't you?" Tommy asked, glancing at me after a moment. "William Tavington. That's why you cried out his name that first night." I nodded, a single crystalline droplet coursing its way down my cheek. Tommy's look was so heartfelt and full of pity that I inwardly growled, my pride kicking in at an alarming rate.

Wiping the salty liquid off my face, I heaved a deep sigh, opening my book up to where I had left off, even though I wasn't really concentrating on the page. "It doesn't matter anyway. I'm never going to see him again."

"Steph, look at me." The seriousness in Tommy's tone was surprising. In all my life, I had never heard Tommy sound so stern before. That thought alone was enough for me to meet my brother's focus head on, both of our obstinacy clashing at once. "You weren't listening to what I was saying. I think you are going to go back to him."

"How? How do you know Tommy?" I snapped. "I don't even know how I got there in the first place, or how I got back!"

He sighed, running a hand down his face. "You know I really don't know. You never even finished telling me the story of what you did while you there. But I have this gut feeling that you didn't finish something there."

My face must have contained the shock I was feeling, because Tommy nodded, as if confirming something.

"I know I seem like I'm full of questions, but bloody hell, Tommy. How can you say exactly what I've been feeling? How are you able to see and know what's going to happen?"

"Because I'm amazing?" he joked, but my glare made him roll his eyes. "Remember what Grammie McKellar always said," Tommy asked before sitting himself pin straight and then began speaking in a Scottish accent that I think was suppose to be of an old woman, but his pitch was so high it just sounded ridiculous. "You two have twin spirits within you. For generations twins have been born to the McKellar women, except for your mom and aunts. I think the spirits just split between the two of you, for you have Scotland burning in yer breast that will forever link the two of ya together."

I smiled, a memory a recalled well. Grammie was one of those family elders that had favorites, and much to the displeasure of the rest of our family, Tommy and I were it. Everyone said it was because we both were the babies of the family, but Grammie told us it was because we had inherited most of the traits from our Scottish ancestry, namely Grammie's parents. She always said that we were fiery and independent like her mother, but firm and calm in tough situations like her father. Because Tommy and I had embraced our Scottish ancestry more than anyone else in our family she tended to enjoy our company the most.

"Look," Tommy began, pulling me from my thoughts. "You may be my baby sister, but you're also my best friend. And I know how much you hate being here. You may not say it, but I see it in your eyes. You want to go back."

I just sat there, the hot September sun burning down onto the top of my head while the birds sang all around me as if nothing in the world were wrong. But it was wrong. The world was not as it should have been, and slowly I was beginning to realize how much I truly didn't belong in my own world anymore. My life in _the Patriot_ was more real to me than anything else I had ever experienced. It was as if I truly belonged there.

Suddenly I heard the front door slam and my mother calling for both Tommy and I. Quickly I looked at Tommy and said, "I'll tell you everything tonight. I promise. Let's meet downstairs after Mom and Dad go to bed." Tommy nodded quickly just as our mother came through the back door. As Tommy got up to hug her, my mind drifted away to a distant September day, and wondered what would happen if I found a way back.

* * *

That night, my brother and I quarantined ourselves in the basement of our house, pouring over history and philosophical books (for my house had practically its own library) in a vain attempt to understand how or why I time traveled. Roughly, the first few hours were spent explaining to Tommy everything that had occurred during my absence. And when I say everything, I mean everything. I told Tommy about the men I had killed, my plan at the tavern, my relationship with Tavington, and everything in-between. I left no stone unturned and no question unanswered.

To say my brother was shocked would have been an understatement, and I think the only reason he believed me was that he had solid documentation to back up my claim. Needless to say that my description of those last remaining days in the Dragoon camp had my brother about ready to shoot the Colonel himself, and I think that would only happen after a very long session of torture; a very, very long secession.

I finally ended my narrative at two in the morning, and after much grumbling and stretching, we retired to bed. The next day was spent relatively normal, aside from the fact that Tommy spent much of the day arguing into his cell phone. I never remembered my brother working so hard before.

Later that night we continued to poor over books, and anything we could get our hands on. In our quest for ideas, we resorted to using old episodes of _Star Trek_ and _Star Trek: the Next Generation_ because they always seemed to have something dealing with the "Space Time Continuum." In fact, that proved to be handy. We came across an episode in one of the last seasons of _The Next Generation_ in which Lt Worf traveled through various dimensions after crossing a temporal anomaly in space. Each dimension was slightly different than the last, with anything from simple to complex decisions changing relationships, scenery, and just about anything and everything that was familiar to Worf. Later, he discovered he was in a quantum flux, which was transporting him throughout these different scenarios and the theory was coined that for each decision one faces in life, another dimension is formed for the other paths the person could have chosen.

This made me wonder if I had somehow gotten sucked into a temporal anomaly. How was a question I didn't feel I could answer, or why, but somehow I knew that the life I was living currently was not the life I had began. I only knew the way in which I was going to get back, either to the 18th century or my 21st was not going to be an easy accomplishment.


	50. Chapter 50: The Letters of Hope

**Well, it's that time of year again, only this time I'm a senior in college. Strange right? I'm working diligently on the next chapters and hopefully Directing won't get in the way!**

**Chapter Quote: "**But a stronger, more curious side really wanted to know what went on through his head when no one was around, and some of what I found surprised me to no end"

**

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Chapter 49: The Letters of Hope**

"This is hopeless!" I groaned, dropping my head with a thump onto the middle of the very large book on metaphysics that I borrowed from the library downtown. We were a few weeks into our investigation into time travel, and in those few weeks Tommy and I had learned absolutely nothing that could help me in anyway. Maybe I was naïve to think we were going to solve this problem quickly, but I should have known that nothing in my life has ever been easy, and it definitely wasn't going to start then.

My brother chuckled as he continued to skim through a slightly smaller book on anomalies in physics. "No really!" I mumbled practically incoherent while my face was still pressed against the musty pages. "How the freaking hell are we going to learn any freaking thing from these freaking books when I don't freaking know what I'm freaking looking for!"

"How many times do you think you could use the word 'freaking,' Steph?" Tommy chuckled.

I snapped my head up and glared daggers at my brother from across the table. "Don't be a FREAKING pissant, Thomas!"

His smiled just widened. "Well if you're going to be so cranky, I'm not going to give you the surprise I brought down from Boston."

Growling, I openly glared at my brother in hostility, but he was unfazed.

"No really, Monkey. You keep glaring like that and I'm just going to take everything back to the museum."

"Right now would not be a good time to jerk around, Thomas Hawkins," I snapped. "I'm tired, and frustrated, and want nothing more than to stab something large and pointy into the first thing I come across. And seeing as you are sitting across the table from me, the odds aren't in your favor!"

Rolling his eyes, Tommy reached into his brown, leather briefcase that was sitting next to him, withdrawing several pages of photo paper. Curious, I snatched the papers as Tommy handed them to me, my eyes scanning over their surface while every once in a while I shot him another nasty look. The dark yellowed coloring and faded writing were sure signs of age, and when I examined the writings closer I noticed a familiar hand.

"It's Ben!" I gasped, practically bringing the paper up to my nose.

My brother nodded. "Yea, those are scans of the letters we have up at the museum. I'm . . . technically not supposed to have those, or in fact show them to anyone, but a friend up in archives was able to get me scans for a favor."

The mischievous gleam in my brother's eye did not go unnoticed by me, and smirking I asked, "What's her name?"

With a somewhat sheepish look he replied with, "Abigail."

My smirk increasing, I asked "Have you read all of them yet?"

"No," Tommy answered shaking his head. "I haven't had the chance. I only focus on two or three at a time and we have over a hundred different entries. Keep in mind we have an entire journal to go through. Especially since new stuff seems to appear every day."

Nodding, but not really listening, I read over the first letter in the stack:

_January 25, 1780_

_My Dear Charlotte,_

_ It is with a grievous heart that I must I must inform you of the untimely loss of our beloved Stephanie. She fell in battle yesterday leading the Green Dragoons and Colonel Tavington away from our militia, sacrificing her life to save ours. Her valiant act was unnoticed to Gabriel and I as we made our escape, for we would have saved her if we had but known of her deed. Instead, we were informed by the residence slave Occam many hours later, believing that she was already en route to the plantation. _

_The loss of such a spirited woman is difficult, and at times I fear more of my family will be lost to me. As now a second child has been taken by that murderous Butcher, I take salvation in the knowledge that my cherished daughter is now with Elizabeth and Thomas in heaven; for there is she truly safe and free from harm. I can hear the voice of beloved wife echoing her classic saying to stay the course, even though the task is arduous at best. I pray to our Lord God every day that Stephanie's sacrifice does not go unnoticed, and that He may forgive her of her sins so that she may live in peace surrounded by His Glory._

_ Although I had yet to make it official, Stephanie will be memorialized as a Martin and all the respect due to that name. It is the least I can do to the girl who fell into my life and heart, as well as the hearts of my children. I ask that you please not inform the children of this until I am present. Margaret and Susan loved her as sisters should and I know this loss will burden them greatly. Please express mine and Gabriel's love to all of them and take courage that although we lost another loved one to this war, a new star shines in heaven for her._

_With loving thankfulness _

_Benjamin_

"Well that it explains it then," I muttered, re-reading the letter again and feeling a great sadness enter my heart at the pain Ben was expressing.

"Explains what?" asked Tommy.

"Why Ben never came after me when I was captured by Tavington," I explained my eyes never wavering from the letter clutched in my hands. "For the first few weeks I was hoping that Ben would come and negotiate for me, or try to save me, or do something to get me out of Tavington's grasp. But he never came. I thought that maybe he was happy to be rid of me, or that he thought I ran away. I guess a part of me considered that he thought me dead, but I didn't entertain that thought long."

"Well now you know that he didn't forget about you."

I nodded, vowing that if I were to return, that I would make sure to get to Ben and Gabriel, to show that I was alive and well. That letter spurred my enthusiasm to get back. There was so much I had to do, so many instances I ignored when I should have been focused. Well not anymore. With an inward growl, I laid the letters to the side and continued reading. I would finish the rest later, in the privacy of my room but I needed to utilize my time, a commodity that was water in my hands.

* * *

That night, I laid out on my bed with all the scans spread out around me like a halo. One by one, I read each and every letter, correspondent, and journal entry. Some were meaningless military drabble, echoing events and instances I cared little about, while some were of a far more interesting nature. Of those, four different pieces held my interest the most, and gave me more insight to the man I loved better than anything else. Of these four was a correspondence from Tavington to Cornwallis and for a moment I just stared at his handwriting, strong and bold just like the man with deep loops and strong points.

_ February 20, 1780_

_ To His Grace, Lord General Cornwallis,_

_ I received your missive a short while ago and I am distressed to report that the militia woman has yet to divulge any details in the location or strength of the Ghost and his rebels. I cannot lie to you, My Lord, she is a damnable woman; uncouth, belligerent to her superiors, and far too aggressive for any woman of honorable reputation. Speaking to her is a demanding act, but for King and Country, and your specific orders am I able to converse with such an unrefined creature. _

_ I fear, My Lord General that she may be little use for ending this conflict with the colonists, but I have seen to it that she is given a tent of her own and rations befitting a distinguished prisoner. I have, however, instituted a guard to follow the girl and keep track of her whereabouts within the camp. I do not wish to be foolish in dealing with this she-devil. _

_ I pray your indulgence a while longer as I try to break this wild horse of her traitorous ways, and see the benefits His Majesty grants to those faithful to the crown. If any information is provided, I will, of course, inform you immediately. _

_ Your Devoted Servant_

_ Lt Colonel William Tavington _

Shaking my head at his arrogance, I set the correspondence aside, chuckling at the way in which Tavington described me to the General and began to read those which peaked my curiosity more than anything else within the stack of letters; the Journal of William Tavington. A part of me felt that reading into his private life, even if it was two hundred and thirty years in the future, was such an invasion of trust that I should just throw the scans away. But a stronger, more curious side really wanted to know what went on through his head when no one was around, and some of what I found surprised me to no end.

_April 12, 1780_

_The Ghost continues to be a thorn in my side! Three more caravans fell to his damned militia, losing sixty of His Majesty's soldier to his dishonorable tactics of shoot and run. To add insult, the Lord General continues to be belligerent and un-acknowledging of my efforts to quell this rebellion. Although I have tried repeatedly to demonstrate to my superiors the difficulty of fighting an enemy that cannot be seen, they pay no heed, laying the blame squarely on my shoulders._

_Then, of course, there is the matter of the captured hellion. That girl vexes me to no end! Her head strong, willful nature is entirely too coarse and undignified for any woman of English decent. She acts as if she was equal to a man, and appears to assert herself in a military nature. It is unsurprising that she was apprehended as a member of that damned Ghost's militia, and her very presence within a military faction, no matter how dishonorable, demonstrates to me the level of barbarity these colonials rely on. Even if she was hiding among their ranks, her deceit must not have gone unnoticed, leading me to question the intelligence of such a group. _

_But the damned thing that frustrates me the most is the inability to remove the girl from my thoughts. I must confess that I felt my blood run cold when she threw herself into the river earlier today. I thought perhaps she meant to kill herself, but instead was intent on rescuing a scrawny, little cat! And then of course the response to my inquiry left me with far more questions than answers. Her impulsive nature is highly abnormal, and at times I question her sanity. She brazenly demands I call her by her Christian name, one that has almost slipped through my lips on more than one aggravating occasion._

_If only she divulged the information I seek, then I could send her away and be done with the matter. Instead I find myself too interested in this woman, and have set a more rigorous workload in the hopes that I will be too distracted to think of anything outside of this conflict. Although I have been unsuccessful as yet, I pray that I will end the matter quickly. I find myself wondering aimlessly where the enchanting young woman for the Middleton Ball is within that shrewish creature, and I find myself asking how she can appear to have two different personalities. This is but one of the many mysteries that is that damned, insufferable wench. _

'_Insufferable wench? Well, I guess that's one way to describe me'_ I thought. It was true; I was a bit of a smartass, know-it-all. But the level in which he went to describe me was a bit shocking, seeing as I thought he hated me to no-end at the time, and would have been loathed to add a single line in his journal, let alone practically an entire entry. Quizzically, I continued on, wondering how much more was written about me by that man.

_May 25, 1780_

_I cannot adequately express the multitude of emotions I am experiencing after last night's adventure, and then the foray back to the woodland area. It all felt like a dream, one horrible dream that I was begging to wake up from. I never thought I knew fear until Miss H (_at this point the word was so smudged I couldn't even read it, although I knew what it said.)_ had that dagger to her throat. She was helpless in defense of the man, and yet was able to free herself in a way I had never seen before. I do not doubt that she would not have gotten far had I not been there, but her ability to remove herself from his grip was impressive. Perhaps it was that admiration, and the lust of battle that made me kiss her. It was foolish and an ill-conceived motion, for now I cannot seem to stop the urge to kiss her again. I do not understand why, for she sets my blood on fire with anger. Yet I see the woman who enchanted me at the ball, stirring beneath the depths of the tough outer shell she encases herself in. If only she allowed for someone to care for her, then she may break through her shrewish tendencies, but until that time I am at a loss. _

_And her strange attitude toward the object found in the woods is also concerning. She acted as if the object was a long lost love the way she observed the thing. I have not a clue of what it was, and did not feel the need to press her at the time. I felt that after her attack earlier in the morning any more unnecessary prompting could be detrimental to her already fragile state. Possibly in the future I may bring it up with her, but I feel it is in her best interest to let her rest. _

_I can still hear her enchanting song drive through the walls of my tent. Although her voice is hardly remarkable, it's soft quality and cadence with the music is pleasing. I do not quite understand the words, nor the meaning. Possibly it is an allegory for something, but I do not see the usefulness in such an antic. No doubt I am seeing something that isn't there, as my mother was wont to say a time or two. _

_Onto other matters…_

The rest of letter was information about the war and more displeasure aimed at the brusque attention from Cornwallis. Tavington really was trying to be a great commander and leader worthy of admiration, and appeared to be falling on his face. If only he could figure out that brutality really wasn't the answer. Moving on, I read the last of the entries provided, frowning at the short length of the entry as I scanned the page,

_September 10, 1780_

_There, it is done. I have sent her away. While many have doubted my decision, I know it is for the best. As she spoke so clearly herself, we are unmatched and have far too many complications strung between us. I will never be the man that she deserves if I do not first win this war and restore my family name. But to do so, I need to destroy the militia and Benjamin Martin. Once I do, Stephanie will have nothing to do with me from then on. I may care for her in a way that I have cared for no other woman in my life, but I refuse to be the failure my father was. I would rather fight a thousand wars and die hundreds of deaths than bring shame to those I love._

_I will miss her though. Nay, I do miss her. If circumstances had been different then I may have believed the delusion we led ourselves to be consumed in was real. But life has never been fair, and I am doing the best for me and for her. She will move on and find a more commendable man to care for her in a way I never could. I only hope that in the future she understands why I said what I did. Only here, within the confines of this journal will I ever admit that I love Stephanie Hawkins. But in this world, that will never be enough. _

I sat for what felt like hours, staring at the last words on that page. '… _I love Stephanie Hawkins. But in this world, that will never be enough_'. Oh, if only he knew how his love was more than enough for both of us! I would leave South Carolina; I would leave America; I would follow him wherever he went if it meant that he would love me. There were issues we needed to address, I knew that, but I knew that the love that blossomed within my heart would be enough to withstand all obstacles. I had been a fool before; confused and isolated by the words from that filthy, redneck's mouth. But as much as I loved Ben, and Gabriel, and the rest of that little family, my heart belonged in one place: in the hands of William Tavington.

We were different, it was true. He was a Royal Green Dragoon, and I was an American militia fighter. He slaughtered innocents, while I hacked away at soldiers. He killed my brother, and I cursed him to high heaven and back. But I loved that man for his honor, and those rare showings of vulnerability. He was a man who placed his family and their reputation above all else, and wished for once to be regarded with admiration instead of scorn by those who he held esteem for. I knew that when he loved, he loved with all his heart, just as when he raged, or worked, or made love he accomplished the task with every fiber of his being. He was thorough and precise, leaving no stone unturned, and those were qualities to love in a man.

But I knew the biggest hurdle I faced when I returned (for I refused to believe that I would never see him again) would be to convince both sides to lay down their weapons. I winced, thinking about how gargantuan of task that would be. Moreover to accomplish that I would have to convince both sides on how similar they all were.

Ben was the hero of Fort Wilderness, his anger taking control as he brutalized those who had killed the men and women at Fort Charles. He was known for that anger, and intemperance, and much of that is the reason why there was such a gap between Gabriel and Thomas. Elizabeth had not stood for such behavior, and was not averse to letting Ben know. And although there were many characteristics Gabriel had received from his mother, his anger could boil just as hot and just as quickly when correctly provoked. Then of course we all know the reputation Tavington gained. The Butcher was known throughout South Carolina, and I was pretty sure beyond that as well. While he was unmerciful with his enemies, Tavington was a strong leader, and adept ruler in his tiny kingdom of Dragoons. Mrs. Cunningham was proof that the Butcher really did have a heart.

And just as Jean Villeneuve lost his hatred toward Ben to fight beside him, I knew that there was a way to at least stop Ben from killing Tavington. The only way that could be done would be to go back, stop the church burning, stop Gabriel from ambushing Tavington and then make sure they steered clear of each other until after Cowpens. After all, it was only a movie right? I'd only be messing with the plot, and not actual history? Well, whatever the case may be, I felt inside that it was my destiny to involve myself and take the utilitarian path thought the jungle. I only prayed that whatever price I had to pay to make everything turn out all right would be enough. Because if it wasn't, I knew my debts would be too high to repay.

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**Reviews are currency for the broke college student :)**


	51. Chapter 51: Onward Does the Battle Go

**Well Hello again! Goodness, has it been over a year? I am so sorry to keep you all hanging like this! And with such a mean ending to the last chapter. I was re-reading the story, since that always gives me new inspiration and when I came to the last chapter I yelled at myself for not posting another one! My deepest apologies!**

**Well, seeing as I am now a college grad who is unfortunately unemployed, and having to wait a year for grad school, I find myself with ample opportunity to see this story through. I want to get to the ending as much as you do. And while I can't be consistent with my chapters, I am making a gargantuan effort to get this story done for all of you. Thank you to all of my reviewers who have been with me from the beginning, and the new ones I have picked up along the way. You all mean the world to me. So without further ado, the next chapter!**

**Chapter quote: **"Think of it this way, you know the analogy of what came first, the chicken or the egg?"

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**Chapter 50: Onward Does the Battle Go**

The week before the fall equinox, my hope of ever being able to find a way back was beginning to wane drastically. Other than theories and scientific tales, there was no recording of time travel. It appeared a hopeless dream that I would return and I was beginning to wonder if I had in fact done everything I believed I had. Maybe it was a dream, a long extensive dream that was still cruelly punishing me. Somewhere I must have erred against a powerful being and they decided to selfishly toy with my heart to the point that I didn't know how to stop feeling. For years, I had locked my heart away beneath my façade of an angry smartass, and in the matter of a few short months those walls had be irreversibly breached. If indeed I had not been dreaming, or willing myself away from whatever captors possibly held me.

Since my awakening in the hospital in Charleston, I would have random flashes of a horror I did not remember. It was as if two people were residing in my body and one was struggling to escape. At times, the images I had seen scared me worse than any event I had witnessed within the war. The tribulations that had come with fighting for my country were images I would not soon forget, but those that entered into my mind in the deepest stretch of night, or when I was rundown were unnecessary torture brought on for the thrill. Luckily the episodes were few and far between for the most part, but the more and more research I did into getting back, the more those phantasmagorias entered my mind and I had to wonder what all was going on.

With my frustration nearing its peak, I set out for a walk after dinner, intent on exorcizing my demons from my mind. I was almost punishing in my stride as I marched along the road, putting distance between myself and the useless books I obtained. If one, _just one_ could help me I would not feel so despondent, but nothing helped. Tommy was trying to be as supportive as he could, but even he couldn't drive down every weekend to help me. He had a life in Boston, and a dream job that he was focused on. I couldn't be selfish and expect him to utilize his free time helping me, no matter how much he remarked I was his _baby_ sister. I wasn't a baby anymore, and I hadn't been for a while.

The twilight sun was sinking behind the horizon as I wandered through the thickening foliage. My hand ideally brushed the leaves of bushes and trees that lined the small path, acknowledging the satin texture of the changing foliage. The soft soled of my suede boots were paddling softly as I wound deeper and deeper into the forest; the singing of birds and scampering mammals were soothing to my frazzled mind.

I could not figure out the puzzle that would lead me back to 1780. There was nothing on time travel except fantastical theories and works of fiction! Not one piece of solid evidence existed. In truth, I wasn't too surprised; I didn't think that by 2010 they would have figured out time travel. The developments made since I disappeared such as an African American President and the iPhone were pleasant surprises, but useless for my quest. I was a fool to believe that I would return. I allowed my brother to get my hopes up and now I was aching with disappointment.

I sighed morosely as I entered into the clearing lying at the heart of the little woods. Trash of various forms littered the area. Empty beer cans were scattered about along with cigarette and joint butts. A rusted, aluminum sink laid cocked in one corner with a warped bike frame sprawled on top. Shaking my head at the litter, I ambled over to the dead logs spread-eagled around a cold hearth, dropping to sit on the rough bark. My head fell into my hands as my elbows rested upon my knees. Silently, a single despairing tear landed with a soft plop on the leaves below. Suddenly a stiff wind blew up, seemingly out of nowhere, rustling the canopy of leaves and brushing across the grasses. With quiet determination, the wind whistled around my head, swirling my hair and bringing my skull up to stare curiously at the random gust. As my gaze wondered around the clearing, one lone leaf shifted its position somewhere in front of me, shooting the blinding glare of the setting sun into my eyes. With a small cry, I brought my hand up in front of face, trying vainly to block the dazzling luminosity.

The breeze continued to blow, heightening its speed to the point where as I was debating whether to head home. However, just as I began to stand up, a shadow passed in front of the sun, halting my progression towards home. The swirling mass paused mere feet from me, blocking the brilliance of light and began to take shape. Taking a few hesitant steps backwards and almost tripping over the log, I watched with slow precision details beginning to emerge within the mass. Shadowy stubble that lined a strong jaw, the shiny buttons of the waste coat, the scuffmarks on the worn brown boots were sharpening slowly as if a veil was being lifted. Finally, a man stood in front of me, as solid as the ground I stood on. Squinting from the continued glare that surrounded the man like a halo, it took me a moment to realize the smiling face beaming down was one I recognized.

"Ben!" I shouted, rushing over and throwing my arms around his neck. He chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that reverberated right through me as his arms wrapped around my small frame. I did not question why he was here in this little forest in Southern Connecticut, or how he came to be there. I only knew that I was beyond ecstatic to see him and if anyone could help me with a problem, it was Ben.

I held on to him for several long moments, only paying slight attention to the sense of cold that emanated from him while the air still held the heat of the day.

"My God I missed you." My voice was mumbled into his chest as I inhaled the familiar scent, tying him to none too distant memories.

"I missed you too, Stephanie," his voice rumbled through his chest. Slowly he released me, gripping my shoulders as he stared into my eyes, his own lined with wrinkles as his face lit with a large smile. "It was boring in the militia camp without you."

My smile faltered with remembrance of the grief he experienced. "Ben, I'm so sorry that you never knew I survived my battle with Tavington. I had no idea you thought I was dead, otherwise I would have—"

"Stephanie, stop," Ben said, placing a finger across my lips to stop my speech. "It's alright. Everything works out in the end. Do not trouble yourself."

"How can I not?" I practically pleaded. "Oh Ben, I feel so lost. I don't know what to do anymore. Everything is unraveling and I can't seem to make it stop."

Shaking his head, Ben brought his hand up to rest against my cheek. "Didn't I say don't worry? I've had this planned for a long time."

My brow quickly wrinkled in confusion. "What?"

"Come. Let us sit and I'll explain everything." Taking my hand, Ben led me over to the log I had previously occupied.

"What do you mean you've had this planned?" I exploded the moment we sat. "What are you not telling me? And how are you even here?"

Ben sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry to have waited so long to tell you this. I needed to know if you were ready, if you were strong enough for the events to come—"

"Ben," I interrupted. "Just tell me what's going on. I'm tired of everyone treating me like some piece of crystal, and I deserve to know what is happening."

He nodded, as if confirming something only he knew. "It was I who sent you into my time. I dropped you where Gabriel and Thomas would find you. I waited centuries for you to be born and I watched as you grew up, protecting you where I could. That is how I came to be here today."

I blinked several times, trying vainly for my mind to process what my ears heard. "Protecting me? Wait, I don't . . . what do you mean . . . you sent me back in time? I'm sorry, but I don't understand this."

He smiled. "No I didn't think you would. Maybe we should go about another way. Do you understand different philosophical theories of time?"

"Sure," I shrugged, still trying to process everything I had been told. "I studied them in my philosophy class this summer. I mean the number is endless on how you can think of time, so we only studied a few."

He nodded slowly. "Alright, and did you ever study the idea of backwards time travel and the implication it may or may not have on history?"

"Well, no. I mean that's really in-depth and it was a basic philosophy class. Why? Did my going back in time change something drastic?" I asked, my fear peaking that I had royally screwed up.

"No, no, no," he hurriedly said. "What I mean to say is you were sent into the eighteenth century because you had already been there."

Again, I merely blinked at him. "Huh?"

He smiled. "Think of it this way, you know the analogy of what came first, the chicken or the egg? It is similar to that. I sent you into my world either because you had already been there, or because you were destined to go."

I paused to absorb what he said. "Yeah, I'm still confused."

He sighed quickly, then gripped my shoulders as if willing my stubborn mind to comprehend the facts he was laying out for me. "You were meant to enter into my world, my time, Stephanie. There are events and people there that would end up on the wrong path without you. Your influence has kept their destinies in line."

"Okay, that's all well and good, but what about mine? I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know who I am or if I'm going crazy. And the fact that I'm talking to you right now isn't supporting that assessment."

"Your future has never been altered by what you do. Everything had already occurred by the time you were born. Everything you were supposed to do, you have already done."

"Okay then, how? You're just a movie in my world . . . er . . . time."

Ben nodded. "That is true. You see, time is not a linear sequence of events and occurrences. It is in fact more similar to a tree. It branches off in different directions, connecting at times and then separating again, intertwining a whole network of dimensions. In your time, my life is merely a two-hour long movie, and in others, I do not exist at all. There are times where you don't exist. Stephanie, there are so many different worlds, different dimensions that no two are exactly the same. Now, I understand that you are probably full of questions," he continued as I began to open my mouth. "But trust that I know what I am doing and that in time you will come to understand."

Slowly I closed my mouth and paused, deep in thought. The story Ben gave me was so far-fetched that a rational person would have had a hard time believing such a tale. However, I was not a rational person, and after everything I had been through, I could not help but believe him. After all, he was sitting on a long next to me in 2010!

"Okay, fine, let's say I believe you," I placated, standing up and turning to face Ben. "Why me? Why was I the one chosen? There have got to be more beautiful, smarter, more accomplished people out there."

He smiled, as if knowing that someday I would ask this of him. "Because there are things you must learn as well."

"Yea, okay Yoda. Like what?"

"The answer is in you, for you to discover. No one can tell you."

"That is completely frustrating and cliché, you know that right?" I snapped, crossing my arms.

Ben laughed, but did not say anything.

"Fine, be that way, but you have to answer me this," I gripped, sitting back down and leaning forward. "How am I supposed to accomplish these supposed "tasks" destined for me? I can't even figure out how to get back! Let alone what I'm going to do when I get there."

He nodded slowly, turning his attention to very last rays of sun on the speckled horizon. "Our destiny is not always the easiest path in which the answers are freely given. However, that does not mean you cannot be helped when you need it. I will assist in bringing you back to my world, but the rest is up to you, Stephanie. You are a smart girl and you will find the answers you seek. Just trust in yourself, but most of all, trust in the love given to you by others. With that, you can accomplish any task laid at your feet."

Rolling my eyes, I retorted, "Again with the clichés Ben. When did you start sounding all wise and full of riddles that make no sense? Should I start calling you Obi Wan, or Gandalf?"

He just smiled, and that is when I realized that Ben was slowly fading before my eyes. As if the darkness of the coming night would erase all trace of him. Panicked, I reached for his arm, only to watch my fingers sail through thin air.

"Wait! I'm not done talking to you!" I shouted as he faded. "There are things I need to know. I still need your help: your guidance. You can't leave me alone!" Vainly I reached for his jacket, his shirt, anything that I could possibly hold on to, but he was merely a wisp of air.

"You're never alone, Stephanie. Come back when day and night are equal and I will return you to where you belong. Your path will then be made clear."

"Damn it, don't speak in riddles!" I snapped standing quickly as the same gust of wind blew up, as if forcefully pushing me to my feet. Ben just smiled and waved, and then was gone as darkness enclosed the clearing.

"Well that was maddening unhelpful," I muttered to myself as I stared at the empty log. 'Come back when day and night are equal? What the hell did he mean by that?' I thought as I meandered around the clearing, looking for any clue Ben might have left behind to help me. Upon finding nothing, I huffed indignantly, crossing my arms against the sudden chill that arose with the fading daylight. I glanced upward towards the slowly emerging stars that twinkled into the existence. "How am I supposed to do this, Ben?" I whispered, not expecting any answer to be forthcoming. When none came, I nodded my head in confirmation of my earlier assessment and began the slow trek home, knowing there was a very important phone call I needed to make the moment I got into the house.

* * *

"So, you've gone mental, that's what you're telling me, right?" my brother's voice said as it wafted through my new iPhone. I had just finished explaining to him what had occurred not a few hours before in the woods near the house. I, myself, was still having a hard time believing everything that Ben had explained to me. I could not be as important as he led me to consider, nor was there any possible way the objectives laid out in front of me could be fulfilled. I was not Wonder Woman after all. Of course, just talking to Ben in general was a sticking point I still had to overcome in my head. I mean let's face it - I don't really talk to dead people that often.

"No, Tommy, I'm perfectly sane. At least I was last time I checked," I snapped, giving a look towards the phone, even though my brother could not see my face. Hearing a snort, my glare intensified.

"You being anything relative to sane has been in question for a while, Monkey," he replied jokingly.

"Yes well we're two apples from the same tree, Tommy. If I'm insane, what does that make you?"

"A genius," came his answer. I swear at the moment, if I had the power to reach through the phone and strangle my brother, I would have. I think he could sense my irritation, for he quickly responded, "Calm down, I'm just teasing. So you really had this Sixth Sense thing occur, with Benjamin Martin?"

Rolling my eyes at the surmised thickness of my brother's skull, I barked back, "Yes. That is exactly what I'm saying. Ben said that he brought me into his time because I was meant to go, or because I already had been there. I forget which. And that it is my destiny to return to finish what I started. He said to come back when '_day and night are equal and I will return you to where you belong._' Whatever that means."

There was silence on the other end, and had it not been for the wheels turning in my brother's head, I would wonder if the call had been dropped. "I think he means the autumnal equinox. It's in a week, isn't it? That's when the sun rises and sets in exactly twelve hours; day and night are equal."

Blinking, I realized that my brother was right. "Yeah, it is. In fact, the day I left to come see you after graduation was the June 21: the summer solstice. Maybe the position of the sun and earth has some impact on time travel?"

"It's possible," Tommy agreed. "I mean some of the biggest pagan holidays involve the equinoxes and the solstices. So why can't you time travel on those days?"

"Physics wise I don't think it matters. But factoring in belief changes the whole ball game," I muttered mostly to myself.

"We're not about to enter a philosophy debate, are we Monkey? 'Cuz I don't know about you, but someone has to be up at six tomorrow." Although it was midnight, I had no inclination to sleep, too excited by the prospect of finally leaving.

"Yeah, fine whatever you old fart," I teased. "I will talk to you tomorrow."

"Night, Squirt. Hey! Before you go. . ." he paused, as if unsure how to continue.

"What?" I asked after a pregnant silence.

"Are you really gonna leave . . . again?"

I could clearly hear the pain in my brother's voice, even though he tried to conceal it. Closing my eyes against the sudden onset of pain and fear I replied, "Yea, Tommy. I am. I need to finish what I started."

"But you just got back. I can't lose you again!" His desperation was almost palpable.

"Tommy, you know you'll never lose me," I tried to reassure. "Just think of it as I'm just going on an extended vacation—"

"It's not like and you know it," he snapped, and for once, I was taken aback.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Tommy," I mumbled into the phone. You were the one who discovered originally that I was going to go back. You've been the one to help me over these last few weeks. You knew this was coming."

"But I didn't think it would happen so fast! I just . . .," again he paused. "I love you, Steph. You're my sister, and just, I love you and I don't want to have to miss you."

With my heart and throat tightening I smiled and said, "I love you, too Tommy. But I have to do this. I have to do this for William, and Ben, and Gabriel. I have to do this for me, Tommy. Or I always regret it."

"I know. I know," he sighed. "Listen, I'll call you back tomorrow, okay? Just, let me sleep on this."

Knowing that we were not going to move any further in the argument I agreed. "Okay. I'll talk to you tomorrow, then."

We said our good-byes and hung up. While adrenaline was still pulsing through my bloodstream with the knowledge I had a way to return to 1780 South Carolina, I couldn't help but begin to feel the pain of what it was going to cost me to leave my family again. _I won't be gone always, Tommy, _I thought. _The battle can't last forever._

* * *

** I know I don't deserve it, but reviews please? Pretty please? I'll try to be good to get the next chapter out before we die of old age :D**


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